Turning Page aka Game of Clones(!)
by icancervive
Summary: "Some souls are just destined to meet,fated to intertwine,maybe to correct a grievous mistake,or maybe they were meant to be together,that no matter which world or life, they find one another,like a missing puzzle piece" A mysterious foreigner,a death that rocks the kingdoms, intrigue, betrayal, redemption, an intricate mystery linking their lives together. Set in Westeros. Tfornow
1. Ravens and tears

"Pardon me, princess," the voice faintly registers in her mind, which was currently preoccupied with the various mixtures in front of her. "Your father calls for you in his quarters." That got her attention, and Cosima straightens from the stool she's been sitting on for the most part of her day, turning to face one of her father's royal guards, standing stoically on the doorway.

"Did he say why?" _Why did he send a guard?_

"No princess, only that it is urgent and that I escort you."

"Oh no, that's okay, you can go ahead and tell him I'm right behind you."

"I apologize princess, but I must insist. Your father has made it quite cle-"

"Alright, alright," she cuts him, sighing, trying not to be irritated. _Poor guy's just following orders_. She hops off, stretching her cramped muscles and closing her strained eyes, before walking past the guard who she knows is following five steps behind her.

She doesn't bother knocking when she reaches her father's chambers, roughly pushing the door open, still miffed at being escorted. The middle aged man turns to look at the rude and noisy entrance, noticing the apology and panic in the guardd's eyes. He nods at him, silently telling the young man to leave them alone. A bow, and then Cosima hears the door behind her quietly click.

"Really father? An 'escort'?" she fumes a little as she approaches, but is smiling, glad to see her father in the outdoors, even if it was just a balcony, his poor health often requiring him to stay indoors.

He snorts, enveloping her in a hug."Hah, knowing how you are, coming in the afternoon when I call you in the morning." She smiles sheepishly at this.

"You never really minded." she comments.

"Yes, well, at least I know it's because you're doing all your little combinations and tests. Someone has to drag you out of the cellar once in a while," he smiles at her, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It does not go unnoticed.

"What is it, father? What is this urgent matter that you escorted me here for?" she tries to keep her tone light, but the worry in her voice is more pronounced, her mind already jumping to conclusions in regard to her father's health.

"A raven just came." it was only then that she notices the small scroll still clutched in his hand, "news from The Capital." Cosima waits patiently, noting the glazed eyes and the constant swallowing. He clears his throat before announcing "the Hand of the King is dead."

Understanding dawns on her face, and she immediately hugs him. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, as her own sadness envelopes her,for the man who always brought her books and informative gifts in the few times he visited or the few times she's been to the Capital, fostering her mind, recognizing the brilliance in her. She knows her sadness is nothing compared to her father's.

"He was a friend," even his voice sounds broken. "A very good friend."

She links her arms in his, "You've lost a dear friend, someone you regarded as your brother. I'm sorry." There is nothing much that she can say.

"The Seven Kingdoms would be sorrier without him. Ethan's the reason it has flourished for two decades, establishing alliances, trade, bussiness, treaties,...no, the Seven Kingdoms would suffer more than you and I. He truly is a great man," she sees his jaw clench, can feel the frustration from him, "and I can't even pay my respects" he mutters.

"Don't even think about it. The Maester says you are in no condition to travel, and King's Landing is-"

"I know that!" Frustration. Powerless at the hands of poor health. Painful acceptance.

He sighs, his palm washing over his face and beard."I'm sorry child. It just pains me, not to be able to go. Which is why I called for you. I would like you to go in my stead."

"Of course."_I would have forced you to let me go anyway,bar the circumstance._ "I liked him too. I owe a lot to him. Of course I'll go." He nods, and they settle in a comfortable silence.

"Plus, it would also be an opportunity for me to collect and study more of their grapes and different wood that can be used as a cask. I've also been thinking about brewing ale, dark ale, along with the wine, and would like to visit Highgarden to handpick the malt, barley.. "

A quiet chuckle stops her tirade. "Gods daughter, only you could make this a learning experience. We are already producing wine, excellent wine, thanks to your tinkering and analytical ventures." _And your fascination to living things_, he mentally adds.

"I know, but there's still so much more we could make, different kinds, with different casks, concentrations, ratios of the ingredients-"

"Child, you lost me at 'ratios' " he was still smiling. "Always my curious little girl."

"I am not a little girl" she protests with a scoff "and I owe it to him, you know. He encouraged and fed my curiousity, even though I'm a girl, the Maesters in training would-"

"Oh screw those pretentious pricks. You're more brilliant than half of them combined, Ethan knew that."

She smiles, a new wave of affection washing over her. "I was supposed to ask your permission to go visit him, to ask him what i just told you. Maybe establish a trade."

. Quiet understanding.

"You travel in a fortnight."

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know what caused it, it's your job to know!" They've been discussing this for hours, without being any closer to the answer as when the question was raised, and Rachel was starting to lose the cool demeanor she usually employed during small council meetings. "Men don't just get sick and die. At least not my father, I know him" she quietly seethes, trying to regain her composure.

A beat of silence. Tense. Uncomfortable.

The Lord of Whispers breaks it, clothed in his colorful and artistic robes. "There is one possibility. But I never brought it up because it makes no sense. Ethan Lannister was loved and respected, even by those who know him in the East."

"Out with it, Lord Felix."

"Poison."

The atmosphere stiffens. Taut.

"Like I said, it makes no sense. The tears of Lys. Tasteless and clear as water. Rare and extremely deadly, it leaves no trace."

Her hope deflates. "So it cannot be detected." It was more of a statement than a question.

_This is new information, but it doesn't do much good, not when it's just speculation._

"Actually, there might be." Heads turn to face Aldous.

Doubt. Incredulity.

"There are rumors of someone who developed a method to detect it, sort of an expert in the field. It is still being refined, of course, so detecting it might take some time."

Felix was trying not to show any outward reaction. "I've heard similar whispers. But at the moment, that's all they are, whispers. Which begs the question," he trains his eyes towards the balding man in black robes, chains hanging on his neck, "how ever did you hear of this mysterious person, and a foreigner from Lys no less, known only in...the right circles. That's really more of my domain, don't you think?"

An amused smile. Taunting. "Well I am the Grand Maester, I do believe I'm in one of those circles, don't you think."

"And I do believe maesters, especially the Grand Maester, is concerned more on healing rather than killing." Sarcasm. Sass.

"Enough, both of you!" the power and warning in her voice effectively bringing them to heel. "I don't care if it's a magician, a sorcerer, or a ghost. If there's a chance he can prove it, then bring him to me."

"Her." Two voices, the first thing they agree on.

"Excuse me?"

"Her, my Lady" Felix repeats.

A golden brow raised. "And does this 'her' have a name?"

"Delphine of Lys."

* * *

AN: OK,seriously, this is something that has been bugging my mind for quite a while now until it's consuming me and driving me crazy, and seriously,why is Game of Clones not a thing?(after I laughed and laughed manically for two whole minutes, in public with people starting to give me looks, at how stupidly genious it sounds, the utter cornyness and geekiness of it) am I the only one who cannot unsee Rachel as a Lannister, as if she was born to be a Lannister?No? okay.

Also, English isn't my first language, heck, it isn't even my second language, so my apologies for all present and future mistakes. I'd really appreciate feedback to bounce and form ideas with.


	2. The Owl and The Wall

"There are other issues that need to be addressed, my Lady." The Grand Maester's stiff words diverts their attention.

"Yes, like who will be appointed as the next hand." _I can't even imagine anybody else as Hand of the King,_ Felix despondently thinks. "I'm sure we all agree that a new Hand is vital if we intend to keep revolts and disruption from happening and everything the former Hand has built from collapsing. The King is still quite...inexperienced concerning matters of the state."

Rachel grinds her teeth. _Understatement of the year. He is a year older than I and other than his gullibility and sometimes kindness, he is still less than a tenth of my capabilities. _

Grand Maester Aldous shakes his head, the numerous chains clinking against each other."I'm afraid only the King decides and appoints who the next hand is."

"In that case, somebody make sure the King's useless bum is not in a brothel but seated on that chair during the next meeting," she coldly reminds them. Nobody reacts in indignation as is expected when the king is referred to without respect. One, because they know it's true, and two, it was spoken by Rachel Lannister, so nobody would dare. The men simply sigh in reaction to her harsh words, which is basically an act of treason, because they know it to be the shameful truth, but have long accepted it, and because the Hand always managed to fix things and was keeping the kingdoms together. _But now the Hand is dead_, they uniformly thought.

"The appointment of the new Hand will be decided on the next council meeting, when the King is present." They all nod in agreement.

Someone cleared his throat, and the she shifts in her seat to face Lord Commander Gavin Hardcastle, who voiced his concern. "There is also the issue of the recent vacancy in the Kingsguard. Someone has to fill it."

"That will also be settled during the next meeting, seeing as our beloved King makes the appointments to the Kingsguard."

"Yes, milady."

"If there are no more matters, then we should adjourn and prepare for the guests who will be coming over to pay their respects."

Grand Maester Aldous is the first to say "agreed"

"Agreed," the Lord Commander and Master of Whisperers echo, while Rachel, silently notes the absence of two more Masters.

* * *

Cosima's nose instantly crinkles the moment she enters the city. _This is definitely the one thing I don't miss. _Even from inside the carriage, she can still smell the pungent odor that is distinctively King's Landing. _At least it doesn't smell that much as to when I first came here._ A frown and a crinkle at her brow appears as she realizes it must have been due to Ethan's efforts, feeling a new wave of loss as she she slowly begins to realize the impact his death would bring. Her thoughts remain on the subject until she hears one of the horses clip clop closer by the carriage blinds.

"Princess, we are nearing the Red Keep." At this, she snaps the window open, sticking her head out, not minding the protests from the royal guard, to gaze at the towers, forming a curved slope when seen from far away. _It didn't change much. Maybe a new tower or two._ She suddenly feels apprehension as the towers draw nearer and nearer.

_This is not the circumstance I imagined when I planned to come here. Would the new Hand even listen to my proposals and plans?_

* * *

"May I present Princess Cosima Martell of Dorne." Somehow, it always irked her whenever they announced her presence, and though she is surprised that only a few people were in the throne room, less than ten by her count, she prefers it that way, never being fond of being stared at by hundreds of people trying to outdress each other. _No scrutinizing crowd, good._

She couldn't look at him, not yet, she doesn't think she's ready to see the brilliant and revolutionary man to be so lifeless. To her, it just seems wrong, so she keeps her gaze straight, and walks towards the woman in a red gown laced with gold at the sleeves and shoulders, a golden belt cinched at her waist, observing the actions of the Silent Sisters, carefully putting on the former Hand's finest clothes. She stops at a distance as the woman looks at her, concentration broken by the announcement of her arrival. They silently stare at each other. Cosima takes in the short blonde hair with its sharp angles ending at the chin, the cold calculating stare, the proud and regal bearing she has in the way she stands, hands clasped together in front of her abdomen. "Rachel?" she blurts out. _Seven hells, what happened to the smiling kid with twin braids hanging on both shoulders?_

"It's Lady Rachel to you, _princess_." A raised brow, a sneer, and she says the word not as a title but as if it was an afront.

_I take back my first thought, Rachel is absolutely the one thing I don't miss._

Rachel observes the olive skin tone, dark hair, and dark eyes that mark the Dornish, the visible ink on her shoulder, the intricate hair, "what happened to your hair?"

"What happened to yours" Cosima fires back.

"I was nine."

"So was I, _my Lady._" Cosima scoffs.

Rachel chooses to ignore the jibe. "And what is that...thing on your face." she gestures at the pair of rounded glass held together by a small metal arch at the top, and perched at her nose, with thin metal frames looping at her ears.

At this, the Dornish flashes a genuine smile. "Oooh, my spectacles. They are basically two lenses that..." she launches on a full description, excited to explain. "I designed them myself" she says proudly. Rachel's face, however, shows disinterest and hasn't moved even by a centimeter.

"You look like a silly owl." An amused tone meant to mock.

"And you look like you've been carved from The Wall with an icicle still stuck up your ass. These help my vision." They glare at each other until one of the Sisters approaches warily, holding out a beautiful sword, the question clear even though no words were spoken:_ should the sword be included?_

The silent question makes them both aware of where they are,feeling shame that the first thing they do is fight like children in front of his corpse.

"No, no sword, he hated fighting, he was a man of peace." The Sister nods and goes back to work. Cosima, sincerely apologetic, decides to be the first to apologize.

"Look, I'm-" she is cut off by Rachel summoning a knight.

"Please take the princess of Dorne to her prepared quarters and make sure she is taken care of," and without waiting for an answer, walks over to where her father is laid out.

"Yes, m'lady"

_Bitch. I'm trying to be nice here_. She thinks of how Lord Ethan would have reacted with kindness. _How are they even related?_ Cosima is fuming as she follows her guide. They step out into the hallways when she hears a gasp, then hurried footsteps coming towards her.

"Cosima?"

* * *

AN: yeah,an AU with an AU in an AU, which is like, triple whammy. I'll try to stay as loyal and true to both series as humanly possible.

Oh, Rachel's dress . hbogameofclothes. files. wordpress 2014/05/7dtobrq. jpg, (remove the spaces,FF is not link-friendly)coz my imagination is that strong and I just wanted to share visuals.

Unedited and unbetaed. apologies for any mistakes.


	3. Blue and Orange

"Cosima?"

She whirls to face the woman approaching, every step measured even if it was hurried, every movement no doubt perfected from growing up with a septa to dictate the proper way to act, a noblewoman in every sense.

"Alison." It wasn't hard to recognize the auburn hair, the blue grey dress and fitted dark blue top, a fish sigil visible below her neck. This reminds her first encounter and the proclivity for titles. "I mean, Lady Tully," she quickly amends, nodding slightly, receiving a nod in return when they are finally face to face.

They mutually stare, having not seen each other since they were children, noting the differences the years have managed to carve into the little girls they once were. A quirk on a lip, the other trying not to do the same, and then they are both laughing, breaking the formal air as they embrace, Alison's genuine happiness overriding her usual formal and dutiful demeanor.

"Oh you have no idea how good it is to finally see a familiar face that is happy to see me." Cosima gushes when they release each other. She gets a confused and questioning gaze in response.

"_Lady_ Rachel Lannister" she says with an eye roll.

"Come now, no need to be so harsh, she is grieving." A slight admonishment.

"Harsh? I'm the one who's harsh? The first thing she does is turn her uppity nose at me, all high and mighty. I told her she has an icicle stuck in her ass."

Her friend gasps in absolute horror. "Cosima Martell, you did not."

"Oh yeah, I absolutely did," she says with an impish smile, _you should see your face._

The knight, all but forgotten, intrudes with an ahem. Both ladies remember his presence and look at him.

"I'm supposed to take the princess to her quarters."

They both give him an "are you serious" glare.

"Tell me where it is, I can take her there myself, after we have exchanged pleasantries." Alison's clipped tone surprises the woman beside her.

The man in Lannister armor hesitates, scared of the consequences if he were to disobey his Lady. Alison sees this and softens her tone. "I can tell Lady Rachel later when we meet, I take full responsibility."He still hesitates for a moment, weighing his options, then bows, deciding he could trust her.

"As you wish, Lady Alison." He walks back to his post after pointing out said quarters.

"Wowwwww, Lady Alison, are you friends with Lady Rachel now? Her royal guards are familiar with you, they even let you 'take responsibility' of her commands" a tattooed shoulder nudges a clothed one in teasing.

"Oh, stop it. I've been staying in the capital for the past few weeks, conducting business and trade between the Riverlands and King's Landing, amending the original deals made by the Hand, making it better to suit the city's needs, and Lady Lannister IS the Master of Coin." Brown eyes go wide in astonishment."I must say, you arrived quite early. The announcement of the arrival of guests isn't in two more days, maybe three."

"My father put me on the fastest ship, and I'd rather not spend two weeks on bumpy roads. The sea takes about a week." Hands fly in gesture distractedly. " Wow, Lady Rachel sure has gone far."_ Although I shouldn't be surprised, based on my first meeting with her and how everybody acts around her._

"Yes. So we have been spending more time with each other. I was here when her father...she needed a friend." _That was the one and only time I saw that face show true emotion. _Alison thinks back on that day, She remembers the broken expression, looking quite lost. There was no resistance when she slowly approached and put her arms around the always-straightened shoulders, no pulling back when she carefully cradled the blonde head with one hand, feeling a chin laying down between her shoulder and neck. They just stood there in a one sided embrace, not knowing how long, until she feels the other woman slowly pulling, a stiff "I have to call the small council for a meeting" and walks away, never turning back, Alison all too aware of the dampness on the side of her neck. The next morning, Rachel was her usual cool and collected self, a new resolve in every action and order, and when their eyes met, it was as if nothing happened, a silent agreement to never speak of it again.

"Lady Highandmighty does not make friends."

"Well, Lady Rachel has always been...difficult to understand." _She's less harsh to me though. _She noticed a changed, a difference whenever they encountered each other, barely there, but there nonetheless, almost as if they were friends._ Or as close to having a friend for Rachel Lannister._

"Please, save it. And she's not the only one who's grieving." Cosima's voice turns somber. She feels a hand gently rubbing her arm.

"I'm sorry. I know he meant a lot to you."

"Not just to me. Seven hells, all of Westeros is probably grieving." She sees a slight flinch at her choice of expression.

"Enough about that, let me look at you properly." Alison slowly turns her around, gawking at the orange garment loosely clinging to her small frame, fingertips tracing the ink on her right shoulder, but the first thing she says is

"What is that on your face?"

Cosima groans. "Don't start. Iv'e already had an earful of criticism from Rachel, sorry, _Lady_ Lannister"

"And what did you do to your hair? It's quite unique." she scrutinizes the many strands of thinly and intricately braided dark hair.

The princess smiles and gives a little shake of her head, a rattling sound coming from some of the beads bumping into each other. "Yeah, I like it better this way. It's easier to move around and work when it's off my face. Plus, it's way warmer in Dorne."

"I suppose it helps with the temperature."

"And you, you still have your bangs"_which is actually why it was so easy to recognize you_.

"I grew my hair," Alison scoffs with affront, but they both know, she's always kept her bangs, with the longer parts of the auburn hair braided and tied at the back.

Dark eyes twinkle in teasing. "Yeah, I can see that."

The ink on her right deltoid is slowly traced by curious fingertips.

"Is that a...turtle? I thought you're a viper."

Hesitation. Not wanting to explain a turtle. A smile. She turns her back, smirking at the 'oh' from her friend, no doubt from seeing the tattoo on her left shoulder blade, a viper surrounding a sun done in hues of orange and red orange, with the words Unbowed Unbent Unbroken in black ink, stylized to look like a spear, running from top of her shoulder down to her lower back, piercing the sun and dissecting the left hemisphere of her back. Even the uptight, prim and proper redhead cannot deny its beauty.

"It looks so artfully and masterfully done." She breathes out, still staring at the image."It's very beautiful." Cosima smiles.

"And really, have you no other dresses?" The tone was condescending, eyes narrowing at how provocative the orange garment is, gold chains on her neck and hanging in front, doing nothing to hide the tanned olive skin, taut and flat stomach, the blending of red, orange, and black ink at her back, and sculpted arms, with leather bands wound and crossed on both elbows.

A shrug and a small smile. "Like I said, it's warmer in Dorne."

"You Dornish sure are more...loose...I mean, you do things with little disregard for conduct" she rushes in explanation by the arching of Cosima's brow.

"Not really, we're just more accepting in the South."

"Mmmm, well, you've grown quite beautiful yourself." A shy smile, and then it disappears at the next comment. "Although you haven't really grown much in the literal sense, you're a little short."

"Excuse me?" Cosima gasps in mock indignation, "speak for yourself, I'm still taller than you...by maybe half an inch, but I'm still taller." Her companion scowls at this truth.

"And again, speak for yourself, you're a classic Tully beauty. Slim frame, graceful body, auburn hair, fair skin...no more scrawny wild and free Alison. Man, I still remember that time you bit the butcher's son." She hears another gasp in the midst of her laughter.

"He was mean. He laughed at me when I said I will grow up to be a Lady."

"I don't blame him, what with your muddy face and your hair flying all over."

Pale cheeks turn crimson at the memory, something she'd rather forget. "I was a child. Those days are behind me now."

Cosima eyes her, deciding to let it go. _For now at least. _"Well, you proved him wrong. All the septas will probably mention you to all those young girls they're torturing on 'how to be a proper lady'"she tries to mimic the strict way of speaking the old women when imparting lessons. "Although I must say my chest is definitely bigger than yours." She laughs as she tries to dodge a hand swatting her arm. "I mean it though, you're beautiful too."

Alison finally decides to stop hitting her, a pleased smile on her lips.

From the corner of her eye, Cosima's gaze is suddenly drawn towards a tall hooded figure blending in the shadows, walking at a hurried pace, clearly not wanting to be noticed and is very good at it. She sees a brief flash of blonde underneath the dark hood as the person slips quickly and quietly inside the room she herself just came from.

"Oh look at us, we've been standing in one place, babbling, and we didn't even notice. Come, let's start walking." The high and bubbly voice pulls her from her thoughts.

"Who was that?" her thumb points to the room where Lord Ethan's body was being dressed.

Alison stops from the few steps she's taken. "Who was who?"

"Somebody went inside."

She glances to where Cosima was pointing, noting nothing of the ordinary to indicate that someone went inside."I didn't see anything."

_Odd. How come I noticed it?_

"You must be tired from your journey. Come on, I'll take you to your quarters."

She lets her friend pull at her arm, and she is forced to follow. It all happened so quickly that she herself began to doubt if it really happened._Yes, that must be it. I'm just tired. _But a part of her still isn't convinced, that flash of blonde imprinted in her mind's eye.

* * *

Rachel slightly notices the dark figure in the shadows and orders all the workers out, glaring at the guards who hesitated but eventually scurried out, leaving herself alone with her father in the throne room. _Although I'm not really alone._

"You can step out now," the crisp command echoes into the empty walls, her gaze fixed on where she knew the intruder was standing. For a moment, nothing happens, and then a cloaked person steps out into the light, heading straight for Lord Ethan's remains.

* * *

AN: thank you for reading this asshole of a story that wouldn't let me rest until I wrote it. It's fun putting them in houses that match their personalities, although I'm still struggling with the others.

Visuals! Use your amazing mind to imagine Cosima in this www. pinterest (dotcom)/pin /524387950335783309/ (remove spaces, put " Hotel Tango Tango Papa Sierra : / /" first, salute to those who get it, translate those in parentheses, same goes below, sorry, FF has its moments of douchebaggery). because, HELL YES

and Alison in this justorka . wordpress(dotcom slash) 2012/12/06/game-of-thrones/lady-catelyn-stark/


	4. Sin City

It's been four days since the Hand last draw breath, four days of constant meetings with the grand maester and Lord Felix with regards to the preservation of the body while they await this mysterious foreigner, four days and Rachel has yet to get a night of decent sleep nor shed a tear, _except that time with Lady Alison...no, that doesn't count. _She shakes her head, as if that would nullify the event, and also to force her thoughts back to the most recent issue that has fallen on her hands.

_I, Ethan Lannister, First of my name, Lord of Catserly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Wetserlands, Warden of the West, and Hand of the King, do hereby grant succession and inheritance to my only heir, Rachel Lannister, all titular lands I govern upon the hour of my death._

Neat and uniform handwriting, and beneath it, an undisputable signature.

Rachel rerolls the paper as she steps out into the terrace, her face expressionless, fingers idly playing with the broken wax seal of the Hand, eyes gazing at the moon. Two days prior, she decided to visit this very same room: the Tower of the Hand, in her father's study, looking for anything that might help shed light to her questions when she found the sealed scroll among other papers, tucked in the box compartment where he kept important papers and plans. It's only now that she decided to open it.

It shouldn't feel like it changes things, really, after all, it's only a formality, she's virtually been the one running Casterly Rock these past years(even for the three years she's been in the capital) while her father runs the kingdom, only going to him for the formal documents needing his signatures and when absolutely necessary.

_So why does it feel like it changes absolutely everything?_ The truth of the matter is, it does, in a sense, it changes everything, and she knows this, she just prefers not to think of it. The scroll of paper officially makes her the Warden of the West, solidifying the fact that the former Lord and Warden, her father, is well and truly dead.

The longer she gazes at the words and letters, the more she becomes detached. The sound of the door opening and closing causes her to raise a brow.

"I believe, Lord Felix, that you are clever enough to understand the meaning of the guards posted outside that door." she voices with annoyance, back still turned at the door. "I admire that you were able to get past them, you must have been very convincing, although I must say they will not commit the same mistake again." _Because they won't be there to commit it._

The responding silence amuses her, then becomes disconcerting when it stretches on. She whirls around, Lord Felix nowhere to be seen, a stranger in a cloak standing in the middle of the room instead. In a span of three seconds, three thoughts sprint through her mind. One, her logic smothers her initial reaction to shout, _if this person wants me dead, they would have done so moments ago. _Two, _how did he get in. _Lastly, _if he's not here to kill me, why is he here_. She picks the simplest one to ask.

"How did-" she is cut short when the stranger raises a hand, holding out a small piece of paper, the other hand yanking the hood, revealing a pale face. _A woman!_

"Take me to him." It is the accent, not the fact that she's practically been ordered, that grabs Rachel's attention.

...

Three days ago.

_Delphine is in a half darkened corner, bandaging a prostitute's leg, the result of one of the clients having one drink too many and having lost his temper, beat her, breaking a leg. Perhaps the only good thing that came out of it is that all expenses are covered, Lys having the most expensive pleasurehouses, their employees prized and when 'damaged', paid thrice the price. She has taken the task of being the informal healer, first setting out in small cases, and then more and more requested for her, her methods by far much preferred by the girls who get unlucky with a costumer, and on occasion when her reputation grew, the nobles she agreed to treat in secrecy. She always chose carefully, usually treating the children and not the nobles themselves, not wanting to be cast in the limelight even if she always shielded her identity. She had one rule: keep quiet, or I will not come to you. _

_Of course, her potions are gaining notoriety, not only for health purposes, but also for other more pleasurable purposes, various whorehouse owners seeking out the mysterious person giving the aphrodisiac potions to her patients. It wasn't her intention at first, she just gave some to the courtesans who were singlehandedly raising their children, to help them gain extra income in the one thing they had to do, they knew how to do, to keep food in the little one's bellies. It was inevitable that words spread out, especially in Lys._

_Because of this, she always wore a dark and nondescript cloak when helping people, hiding her face, content with being a stranger who helps the injured. The only ones who do know are her early patients, whose silence she bought with potions, though some of them kept quiet out of gratitude, owing their life to her. __**Who knew there were still decent people in this city of sin **__she muses wryly._

_There is a tap on her shoulder and she turns to see one of the street children holding out a small roll of paper. "The Fairy sends his greetings." and then just as quickly as he came, he is gone. She sighs, looking down at the piece of paper, __**So much for that glowing thought. I guess gold always trumps decency. **__Her brain suddenly catches up. **Wait, The Fairy? It means this came from the Capital**. She breaks the wax seal and slowly unfurls it, almost apprehensive of what's written inside, and when she reads the short message, she realizes she is right to be._

_**I have to go. Now.**_

_She has mostly been keeping her head down when she started tending the leg, but the contents of the paper alarmed her, making her forget, and she straightens her head up, a contemplative look on her face. Unbeknownst to her, the freshly bandaged woman was intently looking at her, now that most of her face is visible beneath the hood. A sharp gasp quickly pulls the blonde's attention, realizing her slip up when she sees her patient open mouthedly gaping at her, recognition in her eyes, no doubt having heard the rumors herself._

_She mentally kicks herself, and quickly thinking on rectifying her mistake, she softly grabs the other woman's hands, gazing intently into her eyes. _

_"__**You...you are..." **__the prostitute was stuttering in shock and elation._

_"__**I am a stranger. Just someone passing through, you understand?'. **__she replies in Low Valyrian. A nod. __**"Your leg will heal, but you'll have to be immobile for a while. I wouldn't ask for anything, but-" **__she stops talking when she feels her hands being squeezed softly, the eyes in front of her shimmering, joy and gratitude swimming with the tears._

_**"No. No need. You have my silence. I have heard. You never ask for anything. You save people like me. And we will protect you like one of our own.**__" she reaches out, carefully tugging the hood to cover the face and blonde curls of her healer. _

_Delphine smiles in relief. "__**Here, take this potion three times in a day to help with the pain" **__she discreetly passes it with her palms between bruised hands. Her patient nods, looking down when she feels something, eyes widening when she finds a smaller vial underneath the one for pain. She looks up, too emotional to speak. A wink, a smile, and the cloaked woman turns, quickly exiting the establishment, blending with the shadows. _

_Now that she's done with that, The Fairy's message comes back full force, occupying her thoughts. _

_**"Tears flow from the lion's eyes." **__the scribbled letters were tugging forcefully on all the strings in her mind. __**If they suspect Ethan has been poisoned with the tears, they must want me to confirm**__, she concludes, for once grateful that well kept information about her skills somehow ended up in the Capital. She packs hurriedly, taking essential ingredients with her before heading towards the docks, the shadier close-to-a-hundred-percent-mortality-rate parts, that is. __**Smugglers and pirates always have the fastest ships. **__So far, she had no trouble going unnoticed, but now she had to make her presence known to the captain. His eyes grow predatory when he realizes it is a woman, judging by the slim frame, standing before him._

_**"Come now, show me what you're hiding in that coat of yours. Bet you're even prettier with it off."**_

_All the leering vanishes, however, when an iron coin is held up right in front of his face, the words Valar Morghulis and Valar Dohaeris etched on one side, The Stranger on the other. He nods, rigid and serious, as he leads the way towards the best quarter his ship can provide, anxiously checking if someone else observed the exchange._

_As if sensing this, a voice behind him answers his silent inquest."__**No, I am hidden. We are hidden." **__Somehow, this only makes him more nervous than before._

_By the time she is at sea, her thoughts have settled enough for her to sort and compartmentalize them__**. So, it begins**__, she thinks with sad acceptance, but also with determination paired with worry,her eyes trained towards the horizon where she knows King's Landing would be. As Lys gets smaller, the apprehension in her belly grows heavier , every mile crossed feeling like sand slowly filling her chest. She has, however, one certain thought amidst all the uncertainty that seems to be more capable of drowning her than the waters beneath her feet._

_**I finally get to see you. **_

_Three days later, they reach one of the smuggler's hidden docks in King's Landing, and the captain wastes no time in helping her, glad and relieved to get her off his ship because he knows that even though his ship was one of the fastest, the trip should have taken more than a week. _

_Delphine can feel the exhaustion creeping in both her mind and body, but she starts off at once, heading towards the Red Keep._

...

Yup, Felix "The Fairy".Sorrynotsorry, just couldn't help myself. I didn't want to use the Spider, because I fucking hate spiders down to the ninth circle of hell. And cmon, it's SO him. Fairy, hah.

apologies if jumping back and forth through time is confusing. Just to clear things, Cosima arrives in King's Landing a week and four days after Ethan's death. The first scene in this chapter is four days post death.


	5. Dungeons and Dragon scales

Disclaimer: I dont own Orphan Black, or GOT for that matter. wish I did though, just to satisfy the murdered feels that I can never get over with

* * *

They are descending the stairs towards the dungeons, one of the guards outside the room they came out of holding a small torch, discreet enough not to draw attention but bright enough to illuminate their path. Rachel grits her teeth in displeasure, trying not to give in to the impulse of letting her sharp tongue do its usual job, recalling their conversation in her father's study to reinforce her effort of stilling her tongue.

_"Take me to him." _

_The accent grabs her attention, foreign and definitely not from Westeros. Things come together in her mind, clicking into place at an escalating pace. The small piece of paper, the blonde hair and fair skin denoting Lysene origins, __**I wasn't expecting her to be this early**__. The concern on how she got into the Tower of the Hand and inside the room came rushing back, and Rachel, because she's Rachel, decides to demand some answers, so she asks again._

_"How did-"_

_"That doesn't matter. You need to take me to him. Now." For the second time, she is rudely interrupted, something she knows to simply not happen, not to her anyway. Rachel considers various forms of punishment for such audacity._

_"The evidence dwindles as time passes." _

_This immediately pushes her ire in the background, readjusting her current priorities, the sense of urgency that has been emanating from the intruder since the beginning finally catching up to her. She takes a fortifying breath. __**If you weren't important...**_

_"Very well, follow me."_

_When she opens the door, she is surprised that the two men in armor standing guard outside the door turn to face her. In truth, she was expecting them to be unconscious or dead. _

_"One of you gets to live" she orders, and then a gesture to follow to the one who was fast enough to understand the implication of the words and quickly slit the throat of his poor fellow guard, coldly disposing of the body as if it was mere garbage._

They reach their destination, far underground in a room adjacent to the dungeons, deeper than the Black cell, and at the same depth as the fourth level, their breaths misting from the extreme drop in temperature, waiting for the guard to open the rectangular case.

Delphine studies her environment. "I didn't know you had a place like this. Cold and dry."_They even managed to airlock the container. Remarkable ._"Perfect for keeping the process of decay from starting. I'm impressed."

"It was"_the grand maester's idea..._"someone clever's idea."she rectifies, not wanting to admit any sense of debt or thanks towards him_._Despite the dislike Rachel has for the man, she cannot deny his intelligence. _And apparently, so can you_ she assumes correctly when her companion looks at her with a questioning and almost expectant look.

"Perhaps you can introduce me to...this clever person some time."

"Perhaps you can get back to your task instead. And I'll be impressed if you are what they say you are. " A snap, as sharp as the edges of her seemingly immovable hair. She gestures towards the now opened cask. Tired eyes look down briefly in apology, the momentary excitement in them being replaced by the gravity of their current situation, before equally tired feet approach the remains of the Lord Hand, his daughter having decided to hang back at a distance, not yet ready to see him in his exanimate form but not willing to admit it either, even to herself. Oh the joy of self denial.

"Can you do it?"she mentally cringes at the teeny tiny scrap of hope that managed to lodge itself in her tone.

"Hmmn" she gets a small hum in response, and it takes every bit of her understanding and logical mind(_do not disturb her, let her concentrate on her job_) to stop her fuming and impatient side('_Hmmn?Hmmn!?' That does not answer my damn question even just a little bit._)

"Well, it has been four days..." Delphine murmurs softly, carefully examining the body.

_That's not an answer either._ This time, a tongue bite was necessary, and Rachel decides to use the silence to simmer down and allow full concentration for the other who was focused on assessing the veins.

The light from the flame casts shadows around them, and she takes her time to truly observe the foreigner who was bent over the body, taking out various equipment from the leather satchel hidden by her cloak. She observes the dark circles underneath the Lysene's face, her expression almost tired and drawn(although it does nothing to mar her beauty), _as though she hasn't been sleeping as well. _She draws comfort from this. _At least that makes two of us._

She shivers and crosses her arms, annoyance rekindling, eyeing the taller blonde's cloak; her dress, immaculate and flawlessly red it may be, was simply not enough to protect her from the cold.

"Yes, I will be able to verify the presence of poison." The cold suddenly lost its sting, the word 'yes' causing relief to wash over, slowly warming her, but it is the sense of vengeance following suit, burning inside with ferocious intensity, that suddenly makes her immune to the cold.

"Although it might take some time, given that it's been four days." a delicate hand holding up a vial of blood, eyes scrutinizing it against the light.

"When can you confirm the result?"

"I can't say yet."

"And how soon can the body be prepared and dressed?"

Delphine does a mental calculation. "Ten days perhaps."

"Seven. Make it seven. People from all over the kingdoms will be arriving in a week, and will wonder about the absence of a body."

Blonde curls shift as a head cocks in rumination. "Then I'll have to go to the body, should I need anything else."

"Just make sure you are unnoticed."

A ghost of a smile. "That won't be a problem." and suddenly, Rachel remembers the sound of a door opening and closing, the two guards still standing at the other side. _Yes, that won't be a problem after all, _although she makes a mental note to find out how it was possible for this foreigner to get in without being detected.

"No one must know of this." The silent _or else you will suffer in the most painful way possible_ is very audible, echoing from the cold walls.

"Of course."

"And so is your presence, at least not yet. You will be presented along with the dignitaries."

"As you wish."

"You can use my fa..the Tower of the Hand for the time being, I trust you can find your way back. It is unused until a new Hand is assigned, and nobody dares enter out of respect for the former Hand. That should give you enough time until your moment of display"

_I've always been for display_, the cloaked woman mentally drolls. "Pardon, but there are some things I may require. I left in a hurry and only brought what I thought is necessary."

Rachel eyes the leather gear, the only thing that seemed to have been brought along. "All equipment and components you need, you come to me, it shall be provided. You can also use the alchemy tower or the Grand Maester's own testing room."

A nod of affirmation, and she calls on the guard to reseal the body.

They begin the trek up the stairs, passing one level, two, and still further is not until they reach the end of being underground that both women can finally breath, their thoughts catching up to them as they part ways, the guard accompanying his Lady to her quarters, the tension from the previous hours slowly dissipating.

_"Good, now that that is established and a definitive answer to come, I can finally move on to other matters."_

_"Mon Dieu, thank the stars somebody had the presence of mind to preserve the body or else I wouldn't be able to collect any evidence."_

When Rachel reaches her door, she turns to give one last command.

"Call for Ser Paul of the Kingsguard."

"As you wish, My Lady."

She begins unlacing her dress the moment she steps inside, and she is wearing nothing underneath her bedgown when she hears a knock.

In strides Paul in his golden armor and white cape, catching the brief flicker of her eyes towards the guard who was turning to close the door. A silent command, one he acts on immediately, whirling around to clamp his hand on a mouth. There is a soft snick, the room beginning to smell of iron and salt.

"Remove your armor."

She wastes no time in pulling him down, violently crashing their lips together, the scent of blood fueling her.

"What'd this one do?" He manages to grunt out between rough kisses.

"He saw" _her _"something he wasn't supposed to see." The knight stops momentarily, curiously gazing at her.

"You are here to satisfy me, not to ask questions." Snip snap metaphorical slap, the cold bitch is back, the small sense of victory and satisfaction from tonight's events giving her a small high.

_Besides, I need to be exhausted if I'm to sleep._ And what better way to exhaust herself than the raw power play she enjoys during sex? A ripping sound, savage grunts, a final twitch and spurt of blood from the body on the floor, and hours later, Rachel Lannister finally sleeps.

From a room high up in the Tower, a tall pale blonde is leaning over the balcony, giving up on sleep when she lurched awake from a dream just moments ago. She sighs, tired but feeling the stirrings of excitement in her chest. Delphine accepts that, once again, there will be no sleep for her tonight, except this time, she doesn't mind.

_The dreams will not compare when I finally see you._

In the morning, Lord Commander Gavin notes how drained and exhausted one of his Kingsguard is. "You look like you wrestled a boar, Ser Paul."

_More like a lion, _the he mentally comments, still feeling the raw scratches underneath his armor.

* * *

There was a vague prickling feeling at the back of her neck as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her. It felt like there was an invisible hook tugging from the other side, compelling her to look back. And then it was gone just as quickly as it crashed into her. _What was that? _She had half a mind to satisfy her curiosity but a voice sounds out, her momentary distraction forgotten, reminding her purpose for going there in the first place.

"You can step out now," the crisp command echoes into the empty walls, her gaze fixed on where she knew the intruder was standing.

Delphine steps into the light, briskly walking towards the body laid out in the finest red and gold cloth, the only remaining occupant in the room instantly carping at her.

"Did anybody see you?"

"No." She doesn't bother looking anywhere else, concentrating as she extracts fluid from the eye, thankful that Rachel's I-can't-look-at-him-yet form of denial hidden obstinately behind a facade of nonchalance is keeping her away from the body and seeing what was happening. Delphine was positive that if the already-fuming blonde saw her poking and prodding his eye(after she asked permission to get pieces of his organs just days ago), she would probably have her skinned millimeter by millimeter.

"Are you _sure_?" A hissing sound.

"Yes, my Lady. Quite sure." _Although..._ her mind goes back to that brief tugging sensation.

"You're lucky that I noticed you and ordered everyone out."

_You didn't notice me. I let you notice me so you can order everyone out._

"Nobody except you and me is aware that you've already been here for a week."

"And it will stay that way." After inconspicuously closing the eyelid and returning the flat stone on top, she straightens to her taller height, and approaches Rachel.

"How many more days? Before you can be sure?"

She considers her answer."Weeks." she says softly, truthfully, noticing a slight sliver of frustration slip through the ice mask. "Four, at the least."

Rahcel says nothing, except for what might have been a resigned sigh, which the potioner takes as her cue to leave. She has already taken a few steps when a "However..." stops her in her tracks.

"Maybe it's time I introduce you to the grand maester, after all, he is aware of your skills and of what you will supposedly be doing, your purpose for coming here. You could use the _help._' Delphine prides herself for not visibly reacting to the implication that she's not doing well in what she knows only she could do.

She goes for diplomacy. "Yes, maybe that will speed things up, I could use some assistance, both in hands and equipment, but there are certain concoctions and ingredients that only I know how to handle."

"Fine. You can go", Rachel dismisses as if they were talking about the weather and not stacking more bricks to a burgeoning labyrinth.

* * *

The next day, Delphine was in the grand maester's stock room, scanning the shelves of herbs, various body parts from various animals and whatnot. She reaches a finger to tap a glass jar containing what she's sure are preserved dragon scales. _Even most of the rare and hard to find ingredients are here. Incredible. _She snaps her hand back when she hears someone open the door.

She puts on a smile, the clinking of chains getting closer, and she turns to face a tall balding man decked in black robes. A vague feeling of familiarity creeps into her brain.

"Grand maester?" she says, hoping he didn't notice the slight falter in her smile, trying to identify what it is that's setting her off.

"Kessa."_Yes_, his eyes going wide for a moment when he looks at her.

"You speak Valyrian." It was more of an observation than a question.

"Not that fluent, I'm afraid." His eyes linger at her face, slowly travelling down her body.

She tries not to let the discomfort show and instead looks at the peach fuzz, the lined face, the stiff way his mouth moves whenever he speaks, and suddenly, the vagueness melts.

_I know this man!_

* * *

AN: I'm a fish, I'm a lover, "Family, duty, and honor", I'm a Tully, I'm a saint, I wear blue everyday, Iliveinwesterosbecausewhythefucknot and this song doesnt make sense anymore. I miss Alison. and I can hear my brain laughing .

thanks for the reviews, and reading, of course.


	6. Grumpkins and Snarks

"Delphine of Lys. My, you surely exceed the stories." His eyes were doing another once over of her.

"Oh, where are my manners. Grand Maester Aldous." he presents with a practiced charisma, overflowing with courtesy and kind smiles. It puts her a little bit at ease.

_That name..._A connection. A faded remembrance of something, from another reality. She cannot quite connect the dots, but she knows that he is someone who pushed boundaries when it comes to pursuing his quests, _and that we share some kind of relationship...non, affiliation._

"Lady Rachel has informed me that I might find you here. It's a pleasure to meet someone with your expertise on the subject."

_I didn't know he was the grand maester here...although I suppose that makes sense._

"So" he begins enthusiastically, " I believe you will be working with me to uncover this little mystery."

"Yes," she recovers herself. "I am very impressed with your...collection." her hand sweeps over the rows of exotic ingredients. "I have never seen this much in one place."_How on earth did he amass all of these? _ He smiles proudly, and as if reading her silent question,

"Well, being a grand maester has its perks." She watches and listens as he goes on identifying them, taken in by the way he speaks and his vast knowledge , and she can't help feeling as if she's been in the same situation before.

"Only a select few know of this room, which is why I'm surprised that I found you here." For the first time, there was uncertainty and slight suspicion in his voice., because only he could open the door.

"Oh, it was open. " she flashes her most charming smile, the one she knows will never fail her even if she was reanimated from the dead.

It works, and he lets it go, taking her elbow and guides her back to the other room where the rows of common and safe ingredients were.

"Come, why don't I show you the room where the making and testing is done." They enter another door, connected to the stock room.

Delphine smiles, trying her best to look like it's her first time being there, _I've been using this place in the dead of the night whenever crucial. _Though she has to admit that if it _was_ her first time, she'd be engrossed by the best testing and potions room she has ever seen and by the way he exhibited the equipment.

"Naturally, this little project of ours is to be kept quiet. News of the Hand being murdered could cause unimaginable circumstances, so you understand the necessity of a little hush up."

_If your definition of 'a little' means casually disposing of lives , then by all means, 'a little' it is then._ She can still feel guilt for the unfortunate soldiers who payed for their lives just because they saw her.

"You will be introduced as you are, Delphine of Lys, but under the guise that you are here to help develop and expand the knowledge on potions. Even I have to admit that the Citadel is nothing compared to the potion masters from the east. You have been very hard to track down, and nobody has ever put a face to the name, so I know this will change things for you, if you're alright with it."

_Is it worth it?_

She thinks back on the dreams that she's been having ever since she could remember, and in that same second, she knows her answer. _Yes, absolutely yes._ Even if she knew it meant her thoroughness to keep her identity a secret would fizzle to nothing and her privacy next to nothing. _If it meant a step closer to seeing you..._ she feels anxiety and impatience heaving in her lungs as her thoughts drift. The sight of Aldous waiting for a response pulls her back.

She nods, solidifying her decision. " I suppose this is more important than my personal concerns."

_Besides, it's not like I really have a choice._

"Excellent." The grand maester is smiling too contentedly for her liking, and he excuses himself, plucking a potion from one of the shelves. "Now, pardon me, but unfortunately, I have to go back to the council meeting. "

* * *

"Your Grace, have you decided who the next Hand of the King will be?" the dreaded and long awaited council meeting with the King was in full swing.

Donald Baratheon's head wasn't functioning well that moment, the ale from yesternight still stewing inside his skull. Rachel eyes him with disdain. _The Protector of the Realm finally appears for the small council, and he comes with a bloody hangover._

On second thought, she decides to be thankful of the hangover, because he wouldn't stop complaining of the dizziness and headache, and she took the opportunity to stare straight into Aldous' eyes ("perhaps the Grand Maester can visit his stock room and come up with a remedy, Your Grace", a slight narrowing of his eyes the only sign that it wasn't simply an act of consideration), creating the moment for him to meet the potioner without alerting suspicion from "the little fairies" and having them report to their master who fortunately did not catch the covert exchange.

The door swings open, and they all turn to see Aldous approach.

"I trust you were able to find what you were looking for." Rachel's voice was very casual, her eyes not even looking at him. What she really meant was _Did you find her there._

"Of course. I wouldn't have come back if I didn't." _All matters are taken care of. _He sets a small flask near the king who immediately reaches for it and guzzles it down with a sigh.

_Good. _"Let's get back to business then."

"So, the new Hand..." Lord Felix reintroduces the unavoidable question.

The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms finally straightens in his seat,resting his chin on both knuckles, the potion pulling him back to sobriety enough to think about it clearly.

There was a sadness in his voice when he spoke.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I never imagined anyone else except Lord Ethan being the Hand." Amidst all the whoring, drinking, and lack of sense when it comes to running the kingdom, the one other thing they all agree on is that he has a heart, and that he too looked up to the former Hand.

"We all do, your Grace."

"Well, who do you recommend?" A pregnant silence ensues, the question more of a trick question than a real question, because even the King's recovering brain knows that no one can fill in the shoes of Lord Ethan.

After a while, he sighs, "Lady Rachel..." his eyes landed on her, staying there.

She gives him her full attention. "Your Grace."

She waits for his next words, her face an expressionless mask as he continues staring at her, giving way for just a fraction as understanding finally dawns. It takes a moment for the whole room to catch up and realize that he wasn't calling her attention, but identifying her.

Elation, pride, and pure pleasure on being chosen floods her, and though her face is unchanged, her heart is pumping with a sense of righteousness. To Rachel, it was the most sensible decision he has ever made so far, and it frankly surprised her.

_It seems he's not completely useless after all, a part of his head must have evaded the general idiocy that exists there._ It made her take one mental step back on the way she imagines torturing him: from breaking every bone to a less severe(for her at least) dislocation of every joint of his body instead.

There was no word of protest. Everybody knew she was capable, if not the only one capable enough, to take on the duties of being the Hand. But not everybody in the kingdom would agree.

Lord Felix decides to verbalize what was sitting on the back of everybody's mind.

"A wise decision, your Grace" _And I do hate to admit, the only acceptable decision_, " but it will surely cause a reaction, especially from the Lords who are less...compliant with a woman being chosen."

King Donnie runs his palms through his face, his earlier and darker mood starting to return. "I know that, but there is no one else I could think of. She has proven herself as Master of Coin."

"And the City's coffers have flowed like never before" she interjects, deliberately glaring at Felix.

"If they have a problem, they can address it directly to me...just like the last time, if you remember. A Lannister always pays her debts." Her voice drops on the last words, tainted with warning and challenge. Of course they remember, it would be impossible to forget when it cemented her credibility to be a part of the Small Council, and that this particular Lannister pays her debts a hundredfold.

"Yes. There. See? Case closed."

Felix inclines his head in acquiescence, albeit reluctantly.

"Finally. " A weight seems to physically come off the royal shoulders. "This damned thing is over." He mutters.

Lord Commander Gavin decides to air out his issue.

"Your grace, there is one more thing-"

"Seven hells, what is it now." Donnie has had enough of politics, his headache returning from eventually having to stand behind his decision against the unavoidable criticism for choosing a female Hand.

"The replacement for Ser Mandon of the Kingsguard."

"What, did he die too?"

"No your Grace, he was.. " hesitation. The Lord commander chose his words carefully"he is currently defective...permanently defective."

The king glares at him in impatience, waiting for an explanation.

"He lost everything below his right elbow during a fight."

"I wasn't aware that there was a fight requiring the Kingsguard."

"It was a duel, your Grace."

He scoffed."Nobody with a sane mind would challenge a kingsguard in a duel."

Usually, the kingsguard take pride in their armor, because it identifies them as the pinnacle of knighthood in all the seven kingdoms, even more so for the lord commander, but currently, he just wanted to tear the white cloak and armor off in shame. There was an awkward silence, the picture becoming clear.

"Wait, are you telling me that Ser Mandon challenged someone in a duel and lost not only his dignity as kingsguard but also his swordhand?" The way the commander's head hung was answer enough.

"Hah! Get the knight who did it , he seems to be more deserving of being in the Kingsguard."

"Pardon me, my king, but it's not a knight, and-"

"Then I will anoint him a knight myself, problem solved."

"Your grace..."

"Enough! This is making my head ache. I am the King, I appoint the people I want, Lady Lannister will be Hand, and whoever it is that booted Ser Mandon's ass will replace him in the Kingsguard, and that is final!"

Gavin nods in defeat, but also secretly thinks that it made sense and maybe it was, next to choosing who the next Hand would be, the best idea the king has ever had.

* * *

Cosima bumps into someone as she rounds off a corner from one of the general library's shelves, sending her spectacles clattering to the floor, followed by the books that jumped out of her hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She can hear a male voice, her eyes squinting at a blurry black figure slowly coming into focus.

The man in black robes, dazed himself, awkwardly helps her up. When he takes a good look at her, he backtracks at once. "Cosi-Princess Cosima! I-forgive me, I wasn't looking where I was going." A stream of more stuttered apologies reach her ears and she waves her hand to say it's allright.

"Yeah, just, just hand me my-"

"Oh. Here."

"..thanks."She settles the spectacles on her nose, his face coming into view, his very nervous face, his very nervous familiar face.

She checks out the mop of brown hair, the clumsy way he holds himself as he shuffles from foot to foot, eyes downcast.

"Scott? Scott Tarly?"

He chances a glance at her, still a bundle of nerves. "Princess Cosima, I'm so sorry. It was my fault." A pair of arms around his shoulders surprises him, stopping the bumble of apologies from his mouth.

"Wow, you grew, and you're taller than me now!" He looked unsure of how to react with the situation, and she placates him with a smile.

"It's Cosima, Scott, it's still me."

"But, princess, I must-"

"Come on Tarly. Not you too. I'm Cosima first, and forced royalty second, alright?" She hated it, this is why it was difficult for her to make friends in the title conscious Capital, the only socially accepted friends she had being fellow highborn. _Make that one socially accepted friend, _she thinks sardonically, Allison being that person.

"But-" she glares at him. He clears his throat.

"Co-Cosima" he tries, the concept very foreign to him, and she knows, so she smiles encouragingly.

"See? Wasn't so hard. Much better, in my opinion."

He shrugs in a way that says _I'm not so sure but I'll humor you_. "I'm still very much new here, so my sense of direction is a bit non existent at the moment." he bends to pick up both of their books scattered on the floor.

"Arrived just a few days ago myself and I'm still adjusting." They make their way out of the library. "So, Scott Tarly, looking good in those black robes."

"Oh, it's just Scott now."

"The Order of Maesters?"

"Yeah, my father wanted me to be a knight, but, you probably know how that went," he looks down, both of them remembering their seven year old selves, him crying with his ass on the ground, and Cosima standing defiantly in front of Chad, a newly assigned page to one of the knights. Back then, she was just Cosima, the brave Dornish girl (much to his embarassment) who chased Chad away and later hid all his clothes when he was bathing in the river, naked and humiliated in front of the family he was serving as a page for, but now, she was a full fledged princess and the heir of Dorne.

"You are far more suited to study and explore things that really matter rather than join the brainless idiots who keep comparing whose sword is bigger and whose lance is longer." Scott looks at her, smiling and happy that someone else thinks so.

"Maester in training, huh?" she pinches his sleeve and makes him turn.

"Actually, it's Maester Scott. Fresh from the Citadel. The Grand Maester personally approved and requested for me here, something about a new endeavor and needing a selected roster. So I'm no longer an initiate." he beams proudly. "Although it doesn't really feel like it seeing as I'm still too young and green" his enthusiasm deflates.

Cosima tries to uplift his mood. "Well, look at you, Scott-no-longer-an-initiate." she playfully ribs him, inspecting the still few chains he wore.

"Oooh, this one's freshly forged, " he holds up a silver chain, "it's for medicine and healing. This one, also freshly forged, is for herb lore." He points out other chains, black for ravenry, another for history and heraldry, blabbing on while they approach one of the stone benches near the vicinity of the godswood, his manner finally relaxing, blurring the line of titles between them and redefining their past friendship.

He examines the books Cosima chose, two books about wine and wine making.

"Wine?" he holds a book up in question.

"Mhmm. Vintner extraordinaire, thank you very much." His face slackens, his mind catching on.

"By the gods, you're the one behind the new stock and variety of Dornish wine that everybody's talking about!"

She grins, giving a fancy bow. "Indeed I am, but the materials in the library are almost obsolete, the books on wine and ale are mostly common knowledge, and there's not many of them" she complains, her hands flailing around to make a point. "Well, there's two, those two, and I probably know most of what's written there, but I'm hoping there's something in them. I'm still exploring but I bet I could write an entire shelf about the subject, if all goes well."

"Maybe you should." he says in earnest, then scrunches his brows at the last two books at the bottom, then laughs a little. "Grumpkins and Snarks? Children's folktales? Really?"

Cosima snatches them from his hands, trying to hide her embarrassment, but then she sighs. "Allright, fine. I've been having these...dreams."

_The ground painted white. The sky with a streak of red. The sun never rising from the horizon. A face weeping. Flashes of scenes. A dark figure always on the edge of her vision. Blue eyes staring at her. And she jerks awake, shivering, her body gone cold like she was laying on snow even though King's Landing had a warm climate._

"I'm trying to figure them out,"_I can't ignore them any longer, it's becoming too much_ "but the library doesn't have anything on the...topic."

"The topic being grumpkins and snarks?"

"No. No, more like... weirwoods, dragons, white walkers, magic...that kind of stuff."

He was looking at her intently, his next words very deliberate. "You mean the higher mysteries?"

"Yes, but apparently, the closest reference that I can find are these children's books." she sighs, dropping them a little too harshly, her annoyance showing.

"You know, " his eyes gaze at the distance, contemplating something "I might be able to help with that."

Cosima's braids whip around as her head snaps to look at him, seeing a small smile on his lips.

"The grand maester has a more extensive and informative library, and I'm Scott-no-longer-an-initiate, remember?"

* * *

As they exit the chambers, Felix falls into step with the soon-to-be Lady Hand. She barely glances at him nor slows down in her steps.

"Your further protests will do no good, Lord Felix."

"Oh, I'm not here to protest. In fact, I'm here to congratulate you."

They stop to stand side by side at a platform overlooking the outer yard, both seemingly looking offhandedly mellow , a skill they both excelled at.

"You have a strange way of congratulating."

"Believe me, I have absolutely no problem with you being the Hand." _Except for the fact that your insides have a darker shade and the vicious evil streak in your cold cold heart._" But we both know there would be protests from the close minded pigheads who call themselves Lords." Inner Rachel nods, outer Rachel keeps staring at the gardens below as if she didn't hear him.

"Let them. I will...convince them otherwise."

"If only you were born a man, this matter of contention would not exist" he sighs dramatically while a half sneer half smile appears on her lips.

"Then you are a foolish Fairy if you think I need a cock between my legs to run the realms." she retorts, her hem swirling as she strides off to handle upcoming events.

_Yes, and that is exactly what makes you dangerous. You don't need a cock and yet you can still fuck the kingdom however way you like it._

He watches until she is a red figure in the distance, hoping that there is more of Ethan Lannister in her than she normally shows.

* * *

The first thing Delphine does when she reaches the Hand's quarters which she'd been using is to open her leather journal, flipping the pages until she finds the one with 'Aldous' written on it.

* * *

AN

With the Sarah as Beth/Katja/Cosima/Alison/Rachel, Alison as Sarah, Helena as Sarah as Beth/Sarah, and Rachel as Sarah clone swaps, I'm still waiting for the Helena as Rachel/Alison. That would be gold


	7. Indelible and Bleeding

AN: I have a confession: I am a recent member of Clone Club, and by recent I mean I just finished Season two last week. *digs a hole and burrows to hide embarassment.

Also, Delphine centric chapter.

...

The leather journal sits on her lap, her fingers slowly tracing the ink.

On the top part of the page, is a word: _**Aldous**__, _and below it are broken phrases.

_**Dr. Aldous Leekie**_

_**DYAD Institute director**_

_**invitation to work there **_and beside it, an arrow pointing to _**immunology related?**_, a sidenote, something that hasn't been confirmed arrow points to _**I work with/for(?) him.**_

_**famous and limit pusher**_

_**Neolutionist and scientist**_

_**seems to possess exceptional intelligence**_

She sighs, the page mostly blank except for those few short words. So far, this is the extent of what she has on Grand Maester Aldous, the extent of what she's seen.

The dreams, the images, the visions, everything she can see with her closed eyes have always been there ever since Delphine can remember, always been a part of her. At first it was just simple scenes, weaving in and out of each other, like in a normal dream. A tower of metal reaching the sky, something called Eiffel, a strange place where she and children her age were gathered in a room to learn,_such a strange concept_, in a language she has never heard of but she can somehow understand.

They were just dreams, surely, because they didn't make sense, and were above the realms of possibility from this world. As she grew, they became more and more consistent that sometimes, she feels like it's a whole new world.

There were general things, like the dark bitter brew she considered her best friend, the sweet treat she grew partial to(_truffles, I think they were called_), numerous blood samples she extracted from people, studying them, excelling in it, words like hosts, test tubes, parasites, lymph nodes, antigens etc slowly floating away when she wakes up.

There were, however, the ones she remember with vivid clarity, unnerving her and throwing her sense of self and time.

A colorful laptop skin with a DNA strand. 324B21. Dark framed glasses. Dreadlocks. A toothy smile. Eyes with a mischievous glint. Coughing up blood. It's usually this point that she lurches from her sleep, throat raw from the last traces of a scream petering out, fear and pain ricocheting in her chest, her breaths ragged and uneven, her face damp from sweat and tears she wasn't aware were flowing, her current reality ripped from her, reliving something impossible but, she knows, just knows in her gut, is real.

It's at this point, seven years ago, that she accepts: they were far too real to be dreams. _They are memories._ The realization crashes into her at breakneck speed,colliding with every molecule of her body, propelling her to scramble out of bed, tossing things in a frenzy, desperately looking for anything to write on.

And ever since, this is what she does, every morning after a memory trip, jotting things down, every minuscule part, before it gets hard to remember, the images flowing out of the tip of her quill, scritching and scratching the way they scratched the insides of her mind.

Page by page, she reconstructs the pieces that she has into a story. Hers?Another woman's? Both? She records the ones she knows is about her, even a name, her name: _**Cormier, **__Delphine Cormier, Doctor Delphine Cormier _and below her name, scribbles born from recalling, with difficulty, the early dreams she had.

_**Paris. Vacations with maman et papa. **_

_**School.**_

_**Trips to the Louvre. Seine River. Musee d'Orsay. La tavern Anglaise.**_

_**7763, bd Haussmann 753 Paris Codex 11**_

_**Being ostracized due to my love of science. **_

The recent ones that followed were easier for her to refresh and learn from

_**Coffee and truffles. College. Cigarettes.**_

_**A course called immunology. Molecular biology.**_

_**Graduating with highest honors.**_

_**Thesis, dissertation, oral defense.**_

_**PhD, specializing in host and parasite relationships**_

_**French language**_, something that contributed much to who she is, a comforting aspect in her life, sort of a touchstone.

_**L'Institute de Maria Sibylla Merian**_

Little by little, these pieces infiltrate her, to the point that she speaks French in her mind, the accent perfected through the memories, and she wonders if this is how a memory transplant feels like. She has a good grasp of her dream self that, if by some miracle, she was transported to this place called Paris, she would fit in and not be lost.

She used the information and knowledge she gleamed to study and understand her current reality, memories of hours of lectures and lab on biology, microbiology, chemistry, anatomy, and human body systems giving her a huge advantage as she studies and reviews the different plants and species from all over The Known World used for making potions and poisons, as well as use it in the medical field, the simple act of boiling her instruments and keeping her hands clean doing wonders in preventing infections. She has built a very advanced and unique database on the subject, making her the foremost expert in the field, having created new potions, corrected and perfected old ones, and developed methods for detecting poisons.

_Using knowledge from a far more advanced world and revising it to fit its parallels in this one...it feels like cheating somehow._ But the thought that she's helping people and making a difference puts her at ease, overriding the strangeness of it all. _Especially now._

She flips the journal to the pages whose edges are worn from the number of times her hands have pored over them. As she looks at it, her fingers doing their usual circuit, the familiar rush of happiness, warmth, and longing never fails to make her feel like she is drowning and flying at the same time. This is the first thing she has written, the very first word during that night she woke up screaming.

_**Cosima**_

The paper is bruised by the heavy blows from her mind, a hurricane bursting out as ink, wreaking havoc, the urgent desperation to write it all down battering the parchment in hurried strokes and harsh indentations, until all the emotions clawing both her mind and heart have finally bled out in the last drop of black on white parchment.

Afterwards, her hands were numb, her whole body was numb. Even her mind felt does not remember falling back to sleep, exhaustion taking pity on her, and even as she lay there, cracked open and bled dry, she dimly comes to the conclusion that she loves this girl.

_How could I not?_

Cosima has taken a large portion of the journal, her mannerisms, her smiles, her body, her brazenness and brilliance, all crammed in arrows and spaces. When she wakes, it is always with half of her still stuck in the dream, as if being someone else who is also her, like someone snuck in during the night, dismantled her then hastily rearranged the pieces right before she opened her eyes. The pieces always find their way back eventually, rebuilding who she is right here and right now in this reality, but sometimes they linger, the fragments scraping and scratching, crawling much too sluggishly, and she would spend the whole day disoriented and untethered, in love and heartbroken, half stuck in another reality until the pieces finally repositioned themselves.

Her eyes skim through the rough scribbles of that night.

_**Cosima Niehaus. **_

_**San Fransisco, California.**_

_**Berkeley**_

_**Evo devo at Minessota. The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. **_She was someone who matched her intellect and passion for science, someone who finally _gets it...gets me._

_**Running away to the quad hand in hand. **Because the little brat stole two bottles of wine. _Delphine cannot remember what came before or why Cosima swiped those bottles, but she couldn't care less because the thrill of running away from the scene of the crime, the warmth from the smaller woman's hand tangled in her own, has left a very glaring impression.

"_Let's go steal some bikes."_

"_No, that's too much crime for me."_

"_It's so nice to make a friend in this brave new world."_

She bites her lips at the next words.

_**First kiss. **_She was taken by surprise, flustered and not sure of what to do when Cosima's lips pressed against her own.

"_ Oh. God, Delphine, did I just make a huge mistake?" _Thinking back on it, she wants to strangle herself for even making Cosima ask that question._ Non. Non, mon amour, If that was a mistake, it would be the best mistake in forever, because it's what made silly old me embrace something and love someone I never even considered for myself. _

Her eyes flicker down to the list of words, her smile growing wider, until she reaches the bottom.

_**324B21. **This...is her tag number. _ There is an arrow pointing to another word beside it, her index finger trailing over the m, past the o, going to the n then the i. Her hand stills, clenching into a fist, as if it could crumple what she is for subject 324B21. _And I'm..._ she doesn't finish the thought, the memory of it proving to be too much, so she continues and turns to the more recent pages. Ever since she got that message from the Fairy, her Cosima dreams have become an almost nightly occurrence, eclipsing the ones about Paris, about immunology and science...even about her own life, and frankly, she didn't mind.

_**"I'm sick, Delphine"**_ she wrote this on her first night on the ship bound for King's Landing. "_We need some help! Cosima!_ "

Her heart twist itself as she recalls hearing her own voice desperately and helplessly calling out as Cosima seizes on the floor, blood staining the floor the way it stained the walls of Delphine's brain, something that can never be washed off. And thus, she didn't sleep for the following nights, forcing herself to think of her task instead.

_**Eskimo pie. **_This was during her first night in Ethan's chambers, hopping out of bed as the phantom emotions clog her reality, the dream still fresh in her mind. The memory started with Cosima shrugging her red coat on, and ended on Delphine's thoughts.

"_Prepare yourself, you're about to become a craven addict."_

"_I think I already am." And I probably always will be._

She didn't sleep after that, the excitement and fear of being reunited more potent than any espresso shot, any nicotine hit she remembers taking, even though it was just a little snippet of a memory.

Where other people only had a page, Cosima just filled page after page, but despite all and everything that was written on the pages, the amount of ink spilled to anchor the reality of the memories on paper , there is one truth that is absolute for Delphine: her love for Cosima is written in indelible ink, written in every drop of blood, every breath in her lungs, in everything that she is, in the very core of her being, in every subatomic particle, and it is something she knows will mark her enduringly and eternally.

There were still a lot of blank spaces of course, a lot of questions written as sidenotes, the only clear thing being Cosima and their shared moments, but those that are beyond that are frustratingly obscure, even with new memories being unearth ever since she arrived in King's Landing. There are missing pieces, she knows Cosima is a clone, that she's her monitor, but that's where it ends; how exactly it came to that and who controls the monitors is still unknown. Delphine can only make general assumptions and conclusions based on what she has, and the important pieces are still question marks in her journal, _like Aldous. _Somehow, she can feel that he's involved somewhere, that he's more than the pop scientist in the magazines.

_Whether he is involved or not, he's probably not the same person here. That is another world after all. Circumstances surrounding him may be different here in Westeros, producing a different version of him. _

It was something she realized after meeting Rachel. Again, all she knows of the Rachel from there are general things, like looking at a driver's license or a patient record: you can see their name, age, color of hair etc, but you don't see the circumstances behind the mask, don't see the disappointment that led to steely eyes, don't see the story behind every action and reaction producing the physical manefestation.

She looks for Rachel's page, and rereads what's written there.

_**Another clone.**_

_**Ruthlessly efficient, cold, professional, brilliant in a scary way. **_

_**Adopted by Professor Ethan Duncan.**_

_**Up in DYAD hierarchy.**_

And that's it, nothing more she can see from her dreams, but for now, it doesn't matter, because the Rachel that matters is the one in her current reality.

_The one I see clearer is Rachel Lannister, not Rachel Duncan. And so far, they are more or less the same. Same iciness, same cold calculated ruthlessness. She takes what she wants, and bless the poor souls who stand in her way. _But she has seen something from Rachel Lannister that wasn't in Rachel Duncan, saw it in the way she avoided her father's corpse, the way she is on a bloodtrail to find the truth behind his death whereas Rachel Duncan would just have burried him and be done with it. _I can't put a finger on it, but there is something Rachel Lannister has that makes her different here, as though Rachel Duncan's what if's were transferred to her. After all, even I am somewhat different from Delphine Cormier. Here, I am less gullible, more...aggressive maybe? Less confused? Although knowing what Delphine Cormier knows contributes to that. I am her, she is me, we are different and the all, we are only what we know._

On that note, she wonders what Cosima's differences would be, and the endless possibilities suddenly takes away the warm blanket she is wrapped in, replacing it with chilling apprehension and fear, making her snap the journal shut.

_Breathe, Delphine, breathe. _She does her best to calm the clamoring between her ribs. _Your purpose here is to solve this, and to prepare for what's to come. _But even in her mind, it's but a flimsy excuse, a forced rationalization against the emotions gripping her.

She bites her lips and closes her eyes.

_Merde._

_**...**_

*pokes head out of hole.

So...is there some kind of initiation or requirement, like cut someone's tail and dance with it in a club, or have sex on the countertop with a stranger just to shut him up, or torture someone with a glue gun after I golf club-whacked and duct taped them in the basement , or immediately taunt someone after being warned that she "takes insults personally", or do I hide my ugly face on my way out of here?


	8. Thunderstrikes and Skinny Knights

AN: Being new in Clone Club

Pros: Fuck yeah, I have 20 episodes to devour! WTF! Mindblown! Feels exploding all over the place! This show is awesome.

Cons: After binge watching, you move on to the lost-and-floating-and-crying-in-season-break world where you rewatch in infinity loop and the only thing that keeps you breathing is the coming of a new season as you become more and more like Helena...or Golum

And don't worry, all the action's gonna be in Westeros, those were just flashbacks in the form of dreams, to start establishing or revealing Delphine's ambiguity. Because, badass Delphine is badass. Period.

On with the story then.

* * *

The Great Hall was flowing with nobles from all over the kingdoms, decked in the respective colors of their houses, come to pay their respects to the man who was laid out just below the few steps to the Iron Throne.

Cosima cannot count the times she has groaned out loud, and a lot more internally.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate this?" she grumbles to Scott, who she thankfully found was easy to spot due to his black robes.

"Only about a hundred times."

"Euughh. I hate this." she repeats, just for good measure.

"I,for one, am excited. Grand maester Aldous has informed us that the person we'll be working with will also be announced today, a potions master from-" he is interrupted from his word vomit when Cosima spots Alison chatting with two women, all smiles and poise, her hair flowing free like dark fire and making a beautiful contrast against her blue grey dress. _Well, at least someone's enjoying this as much as I'm not. _She tugs Scott along, moving towards their direction.

"Lady Alison." he greets when they approach her, the same time that Cosima throws off a casual "hey Alison" and proceeds to hug her.

"Princess Cosima, how wonderful to see you again" Alison replies, trying to mollify the fastidious and disapproving looks from Lady Aynsley and Lady Charity at the inappropriate greeting, adding "Oh, you know how the Dornish are" as an explanation. Said Dornish catches on.

"Yeah, we do things differently in Dorne." she flashes a friendly smile, hands dancing in front of her as she tries to rectify her careless social blunder. _And I just had to do it to Alison. Great._

Both blondes eye her up and down. "Differently indeed." Lady Charity's voice was dripping with antipathy. Cosima's head tilts passive aggressively to the side, a derisive look in her eyes.

"And this is?" Alison gestures to Scott, trying to dispel the tension.

"This is Maester Scott, newly appointed from the Citadel." she introduces with pride in her voice while he fumbles around, not used to interacting with women.

"And very loose when it comes to choosing friends." Charity continues with her attitude. "You really must reconsider the people you acquaint with, Princess Cosima."

"Maester Scott is not an acquaintance, he's my friend. And you're right, I really must reconsider the people I acquaint with, which is exactly what I'm doing right now."

Satire, sass, and an all-charming smile still plastered on her face that they're not sure if she's mocking them or not.

A steward cuts into their conversation. "Pardon me, my Ladies. Lady Alison, Princess Cosima, if you would follow me, the introductions are about to start." Alison grabs Cosima's arm, quickly maneuvering her before she says something else.

When they take their places, she finally takes a proper look at her tattooed friend.

"Well, it's good to see that, despite the dress, you at least made an effort to make yourself presentable." she comments, that even though she knows Cosima is gorgeous to begin with, she mentally approves of the prettified version, the eyes painted with care, the thin braids swirled into an elaborate bun, the red orange gown revealing more tanned skin than is usually seen in the Capitol, and putting the lithe body and tattoos on full display, causing quite a number of stiff necks from all the people craning their heads to take a proper look.

"Please, it's just a matter of a few tidying up, and with all the gaping and the number of times I've been checked out, I know I'm beyond presentable." She says it with casual confidence, as if stating a simple fact. "Why do we have to do this?" an exasperated whine follows immediately.

"It's customary for those of the Great Houses to be presented, you know this princess Cosima."

"Oh, come on, when are you ever going to simply call me Cosima?"

" You are to be addressed properly, _Princess Cosima_." Alison cuts in, the word princess sounding like an absolute admonishment, making the dark lined eyes in front of her roll.

"And it's not like they don't know who we are. Besides, it's a funeral, for crying out loud."

"Known only by name, not by face for many of those here. And yes, it's a funeral, but a lot of nobles and prominent people are present, it would be an opportunity for these people to reacquaint."

"Opportunistic people who can't wait to do either business or gossip, you mean?" Honesty and sarcasm roll of her tongue.

Alison was spared from answering by the herald's announcement, "Princess Cosima Martell of Dorne," and she gives a little push, reminding the Dornish that it's her turn to face the crowd, so to speak.

Cosima sighs, but when she walks, she walks confidently, strutting more like, her arms swinging, the metal links on her wrists jangling, stopping a few feet away from the pedestal where the body lay.

"Your Grace." She inclines her head a little, the gesture returned by the King. After her customary greeting, she walks to the left side, eager to avoid possible unnecessary conversations.

"Lady Alison Tully of Riverrun." She turns to see her friend do the same greeting. Where Cosima was exotic unabashedness , Alison was perfected decorum and propriety. _I wonder how we get along_, she thinks as she waves her over and takes her hand, walking with Alison in tow.

"Come on, let's go." Her whole body jerks back when the auburn stops abruptly at the word 'go'.

"Go? Go where? The others are still being announced, our presence is mandatory as a customary sign of acknowledgement."

"Well, can we be mandatorily acknowledging someplace where it doesn't feel like my brain will start decaying or else my hands will 'accidentally' smack people's faces?"

Alison sighs in a huff, about to go off in an itemized commentary on proper behavior but relents when she spots Felix up by the left wing. "Alright, follow me." They make their way to the steps on the left side towards the solitary individual looking for all the world as if bored and yet Cosima cannot help but think that he is the exact opposite of bored. He notices their approach and faces them, addressing them with a slight bow.

"Lady Alison. Didn't expect you to be out of the noble swarm you seem to prefer." Cosima's eyebrow raises at the backhanded way he spoke with decorum personified.

"Oh hush, Fairy." Alison's mock admonishment of a reply makes both brows disappear in her hairline.

Noticing the reaction, she clears her throat. "Yes, well, my friend here needed some space. Lord Felix, this is Princess Cosima. And this" she gestures towards the lanky frame decked out in edgy clothes, dark teal lining the rim of his eyes, "is Lord Felix, Master of Whisperers."

"Oooh, the Dornish princess. I do so love the Dornish. Wonderful people, more free and accepting of us 'deviants' as these uptight lot swimming in bigotry call us, yeah?" The way his words made Alison's eyes widen and jump from the two of them, with a whispered 'is he also referring to you', makes Cosima like him instantly, sensing a savvy mind behind the outrageous robes and perfectly coifed curl falling on his brow.

"Yeah" she breaks out into a grin. "I've heard of you, but I didn't expect The Fairy to be..." her hands compensate for her lack of words, waving in an up and down motion towards his body.

"Were you expecting someone with wings?"

"Ahm, a fat bald eunuch, actually."

"Huh!" he dramatically huffs, complete with an eyeroll "I am the complete opposite of all those things. A eunuch! Really? I can prove to you right now how very un-eunuchy I am." And he shuffles as if to remove his robes.

"Ah, n-n-n-n-o! That won't be necessary." Alison clucked, causing both of them to hide their laughs, although in vain.

"You look even more delightful up close." He says, his eyes appreciating the view. "And your breasts are more superb than..." Alison glares at him. "No offense, Lady Tully," he says instead, receiving her crazy eyes in return.

This causes Cosima to throw an _I told you so _smirk at Alison who gave her her own dose of crazy eyes.

They all turn to look at the throng of nobility below, watching the proclamation of the other members of the great houses who were able to attend.

"Oh, Lady Charity and Lady Aynsley." Alison chippers while Cosima almost growls. "I'll call them right over."

"Oh, look, it's Scott," she mimics Alison's tone, "I'll call him right over too." And they both wave their friends over, which of course ended up being an awkward reintroduction with Scott mumbling,Charity sniping, Aynsley quietly judging, Cosima trying to teach Charity a lesson on being rude, and Alison trying to subtly teach Cosima a lesson on being rude. Thankfully, the Master of Whisperers was quick on interceding before it escalates.

"Oh, I think it's the last person."

"Delphine of Lys." The herald's clear and booming voice is sufficient in taking their attention, but he falters at the last syllable.

They all turn to face the person who just walked in, and what they saw effectively shut them up, the herald's falter completely justified.

There is a collective gasp as the last honorary walks towards the Iron Throne, all the men and more than half the women sighing in a dreamy fashion. The woman approaching the King was extraordinarily bewitching, her presence and the way she sauntered commands the whole room, their sense of time slowed down as they take in every inch of her anatomy, of her pale creamy skin encased in a soft flowing gown accentuating her willowy frame and making her look like she's floating, the light from the glass windows delineating every plane and dip, every muscle and curve from her bare shoulders and arms as they sway lightly. All eyes were on her, the grace and sensuality that she moved with entrapping them in a trance, her green-brown eyes on a beatific face, but it is her hair that does the trick. Soft golden curls frame her face, the tips teasing as they brush her shoulder, every strand catching the light, reflecting it and somehow making it look better.

Cosima couldn't breathe, couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't stop the deafening thunderstrikes originating from her chest and scurrying down her veins, burning her lungs, rooting her to the spot. _Gods, I can't feel my legs, I don't know if I'm sinking or catapulted into the air, I just know that I can't feel the ground anymore. What is this? Who exactly is she? And why does she make me feel nervous? It feels like I saw her somewhere._

Alison was the first to say something.

"Oh my. By the Mother, her _hair _is...it's impossibly ethereal and otherworldly. It must be a gift from the gods themselves, there is no other explanation for it. Hair like that does not simply exist without some kind of supernatural interference."

"And I would kill to have her body." Charity sighs in envy and admiration.

Even Felix leans in, murmuring a "Now I get it.", his words echoing the inner workings of his mind as he pieces things together.

Scott's mouth was hanging open, "H-h-h-hwaaooow. I didn't know it was _her._"

It took a few moments for his comment to register in Cosima's head who was still mentally caught up with this foreigner and her unexplainable reactions . "Hold it, you mean _that _is the potions master you're gonna be working with?"

"Yeah, the foremost expert in the field. I mean, that it's a woman is surprising enough but...her? I've only heard rumors about her, about a woman with overwhelming beauty. I always thought they were exaggerating but, wow, just wow, I think they were playing it down."

Charity was quick to scoff. "Come now, you don't really believe that, can you? Even though I know she's pretty, I'm sure there's someone else who's prettier." Everybody, including Aynsley, looked at her as if she had three heads and no eyes.

"Some even swear she is descended from Irogenia herself, dubbing her the present Irogenia." Scott says with reverence, sighing every now and then. "They're right you know, I mean, the beauty part, not the courtesan part."

"Who's Irogenia?" Alison asks Felix, who was behind her.

"A courtesan from Lys, famed for her beauty. It is said that Irogenia of Lys could finish a man with nothing but her eyes... Kings traveled across the world for a night with Irogenia. Magisters sold their palaces. Khals burned her enemies just to have her for a few hours. They say a thousand men proposed to her and she refused them all. "

"And you'd know all about courtesans, wouldn't you, Lord Felix." Aynsley's tone was heavy with insinuation, but she is surprised by the way Felix answers, almost as if what she said was a compliment, a suspiciously agreeing grin on his face.

"Of course I do, Lady Aynsley."

Aynsley changes tactics and pries instead. "Why is a foreigner from Essos being presented today?"

"Officially, she's here to assist and work with Grand Maester Aldous concerning potions, widen the knowledge and all that, especially since there are a lot of ingredients that are only known in Essos. She's the best in the field."

Cosima was surprised too, that there was a woman being recognized for her talents, by the grand maester, no less, and voices it out. "Strange, I've never heard of her."

_Nobody has ever put a face on the name of the mysterious expert , and nobody has ever put a name to the famed and rumored face. To think it's the same person...she's something else, _Felix ruminates

"Not surprising. Actually, neither did I, until the Grand Maester notified our small group yesterday." Scott shrugs.

_A small group who is unwittingly solving a possible murder. I have to admit, the way the small council can twist and cover up events is astounding. _Felix was mentally applauding their handiwork, not aware that it went deeper and that her arrival had been covered up for more than a week.

The discussion goes back to the mystery of this foreign beauty, the small group joining the murmurs and no doubt the same questions as the people below were asking each other.

Cosima was only half listening to them, her jumbled thoughts making her hear only a slight buzz, her eyes stuck on the pale woman making her way towards the grand maester. _What in the name of all the gods is this? I can't even identify a single emotion going through my head. _So she concludes based on her physical reactions instead.

_Okay. Increased heartbeats, my hands feel cold, my stomach feels weird, sound exclusion. _She recalls things that can illicit these responses. _There's attraction, love, nervousness, elation, excitement...anger, fear, danger._ Her train of thought is interrupted when the King stands and addresses the crowd, the word _danger_ echoing in her subconscious.

"I would like to thank all of you for coming today, to honor this..." the King's voice cracks, tears glistening in his eyes, and the crowd goes silent, waiting. He clears his throat, and lets his emotions show through his tone, low and somber.

"We lost a great man." he begins slowly. "The seven kingdoms would not be what they are today if not for Lord Ethan. I know there are no words that can ever measure up for all he has done. And I also know that this is a day of mourning, but I would also like to make this a day of celebration, a day to welcome a knight who has earned the title and place. As you all know, the brave and gallant Kingsguard were one member short, and today that spot is to be filled. Step forward " he gestures to one of the white cloaked knights, who walks towards him in a serious manner, every movement disciplined, "and let this be a day not only to honor the dead, but also to honor the naming for the most coveted spot in knighthood."

"He looks rather small and sort of skinny, don't you think?" Scott observes, the leaner frame noticeable even at a distance and underneath the armor. "Those chosen to be in the Kingsguard are usually bulkier, since they're the best in the land."

The newest Kingsguard stands before the King, glistening in newly forged golden armor. The surprise is audible as the helmet is removed, revealing dark brown hair. Long dark brown hair in a tight warbraid and an even tighter bun.

Even the King is surprised, not expecting the person behind the armor. His eyes meet that of Lord Commander Gavin's, clearly saying _I tried telling you._ He couldn't back out of his decision, not when she was already there, kneeling, staring at him as though challenging him to retract the knighting in front of all of these people.

He unsheathes his sword, deciding to deal with the possible repercussions later, but also confident in his decision in naming her as one of the Kingsguard. "I, King Donald Baratheon, first of my name..."

As he recites the words, Cosima squints her eyes, trying to remember why she looks familiar, and then she could not stop the "Holy crises! I recognize her!" that comes blurting out of her mouth. Alison's wide eyes, previously gawking at the female knight, turns to look at her, the incredulity and shock very transparent.

King Donnie's voice echoes through the halls, marking a special moment that has never happened before in the history of naming Kingsguards.

"Rise, Elizabeth Selmy."

* * *

yes, I have excessive adulation for Delphine's hair, coz it's so perfect it has the power to spawn fanfiction all by itself, therefore: ALL HAIL THE IMMORTAL HAIR, bow, oh unworthy creatures. I caught myself obsessively staring at it whenever it comes on screen and have to rewind to watch whatever else was going on..and then my eyes hopelessly drift back. **Sing praise and bow to The Puppy Hair.**


	9. Poison and Wine

AN: I'm immensely gratified that I'm not the only hopeless person bewitched by THE HAIR. There should be like a department in the clone club dedicated to lauding THE HAIR, and i'm pretty sure it would include every single clone clubber.

And Beth! Please tell me I'm not the only one desperately waiting for a backstory. She had less than a minute of screen time but has managed to make my feels explode all over the place.=(

Aaaand, thanks for reading and commenting, it really means a lot, feedback is one of the best things a writer can ever have.

* * *

For the second time, Scott's mouth drops open "Oh my gods. She's a Selmy."

For the others, it was "Oh my gods, it's a woman."

For Cosima, it was "Oh my Alison, it's Beth!", her friend's eyes still wide in equal parts astonishment and alarm that the status quo was broken.

For Felix, it was _Oh my gods, look at your silly faces._

Scott continues glorifying someone who he clearly looked up to as a hero."Her father is a legend among knights. He was the previous and youngest to become Lord Commander, but he died during the rebellion. If not for his sacrifice, the outcome would have been different." He was so caught up in his explanation that he was late in noticing the dagger looks Alison was throwing him, her eyes flitting to Cosima.

When he finally understands why, his face goes slack, giving her an apologetic look. "Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to bring it up." but she waves it away, murmuring "It's fine. I wasn't even conceived yet. I never knew them." but her eyes give away the what ifs of every child who grew up not knowing how it would have been to have siblings. The barbaric slaughter of her brothers and uncle in the very same room they were standing in was something everybody knew. After all, it was what sparked the Cosima's father to amass the largest southern army of fierce and frightening vipers and join the rebellion.

Felix, ever the situation handler, but more of actually pitying the remorseful expression on Scott's face, diverts the conversation.

"Remember this day then, and feast your eyes on the first ever female Kingsguard."

Charity snorts in disgust. "This is madness. How can a girl be a knight, and a Kingsguard of all things? How is she supposed to protect the King when she's inferior? She must have done something to get the spot."

"I heard from Ser Chad that someone hacked one of the Kinsguard, that's why there was a vacancy, it must be her." Aynsley found this out during one of her 'meetings' with Chad.

"Impossible. I heard she was sleeping with one of the Kingsguard, Ser Paul I think, and she spends too much time with the other one. That must be it, she might even be sleeping with the Lord Comm-"

"I suggest you watch your words, Lady Charity, the Lord of Whisperers is with us. First of all, she's not a girl, she is a woman grown, and our great King has his reasons, and whatever those may be, I'm sure she is very much deserving of them." Alison couldn't stop the need to defend the only child of the previous Lord Commander, something that she herself can't understand. _It must be because I sympathize, in a way. That must be it, being a Kingsguard must be a demanding responsibility._

Aynsley and Charity, however, think she is defending the King. "Of course, Lady Alison, we meant no disrespect to the King." Their attitude goes to being curious. "So, what's going on between the two of you? I hear you shared a moment with him yesterday. I've seen him looking at you numerous times a while ago. I think he likes you." Alison blushes at this.

"He was just asking how the trades are going, and if there's anything he can do to help. It's nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing?! We all know that that's not nothing, Lady Alison." Aynsley gasps.

_Yes. _Her mind squeaks a little, flattered and proud that of all the women in King's Landing and here, where the kingdoms have gathered, he still chose to look at her. She feels like she's done right by catching the King's eye, the penultimate goal for a Lady as dictated by society.

"I see Lady Meera. Come with us, Lady Alison, and tell us all about it." Charity promptly looks at her.

Alison spots Meera below, then gazes once more at the kneeling knight by the throne, sunlight glinting off the golden armor.

_She looks so brave, _she thinks absentmindedly.

"Lady Alison?"

"Hmm? Yes, I mean no, I think I'll stay here with Princess Cosima, Lord Felix, and Maester Scott." Her choice draws different reactions.

Cosima looks at her with surprise, Felix with suspicion, Scott with newfound respect, and the blondes with confusion.

"Are you sure?" Charity asks.

"Yeah, are you sure?" Cosima repeats, genuinely concerned for her friend's mental state.

"Yes, quite sure."

Charity draws back. "All right then, I suppose you can always tell us another time." They join Meera in the crowd below.

* * *

Beth rises from her position, bows to the King, and goes back to where she was standing guard.

"I thought for sure you were going to wear a codpiece."

"Shut it, dipshit." and she uses the movement of putting her helmet back on to elbow-shove Ser Arthur standing beside her, her friend and now fellow Kingsguard.

He chuckles, but offsets it with his next words. "For real though, you're going to have to prove the size of your metaphorical codppiece."

"I thought I already did, which is why I'm standing here beside you."

"I know that, but really, it will be hard being the only one not wearing a codpiece in a codpiece-conscious and dominated circle. The Kingsguard is a brotherhood, but you're the first ever female to be initiated, and you'll have to prove yourself to everybody else aside from myself." She snorts and he presses on. "It's gonna be hard Beth, somebody is always gonna say something, even of your fighting skills have improved and is very commendable."

She says nothing, stonily gazing at the crowd because she knows it's true.

"Don't stare at them like you wanna kill them, word's already spreading that you hacked poor Ser Mandon to pieces, beheaded him, swam in his blood, probably drank it too."

"I applaud their imagination, it really knows no bounds." she says, more amused than offended.

"Exactly, their imagination knows no bounds." He didn't have to say the other rumours of how she got in the Kingsguard out loud, they both knew how the people's tongues wagged about other people. She looks across the room, near the Iron throne where the Lord Commander and other Kingsguard are stationed, eyeing one in particular, and as if sensing her gaze, Ser Paul's blue eyes locks on hers.

Regret. Grudging respect. Hurt. Perhaps even a sense of moving on. Spanning the throne room, this is what flows between their gazes, a silent agreement of understanding, even if it was just for the moment.

* * *

Delphine dips her head, golden curls tumbling gracefully to the side with the movement.

"Your Grace." The way the words slip out of her mouth with a different cadence and inflection as she says them clearly marks her non-Westerosi origin, furthering her allure as a foreigner, making half of the room sigh all over again. She sees Grand Maester Aldous, beckoning for her to join him, and decides to walk towards him since it seems the logical action to do so.

"So, how does it feel being unmasked and revealing your identity for the first time." He asks, following her as her feet takes her anywhere, away to escape the gaping and gawking.

"It...feels" _awful, dreadful; like it makes me want to cringe "..._exactly the way I imagined it to be._" _She is not blind on how she looks, and is very aware of the reactions she draws from people, which is why she opted to hide her identity, an advantage for her since it allowed her to accomplish more work, in quiet and in private. In unveiling herself, she knows that she is catapulted into prominence, now becoming the biggest talk and hottest topic of the whole western continent.

"Not all bad, I hope."

She smiles and it appears flawless but she is struggling on keeping it plastered and not make little puppy growls. _There will be people constantly digging and asking. Dieu, I am going to miss the peaceful silence. Despite my abilities, I will not be able to escape notice all the time. I will be like an ant being scrutinized through a magnifying glass._

"I have to tell you, even though I already knew, when I first saw you, who _and_ what you were, seeing you walk that aisle , my dear you absolutely took my breath away, me and every occupant in this room. Although who would have known, that the famed Present Iorgenia and the foreign expert are one and the same?"

_Who would have known indeed. Those who do know only do because I let them. _She just keeps smiling instead.

"I've already notified your attendance and purpose to the little group I have chosen to work with us. They were told only what they needed to know, of course. I look forward to start working with you" he says with genuine excitement. _Perhaps a little bit too much_. There is something in the way he says it that makes her backtrack for a moment, but only for a moment.

"Likewise." In truth, she herself is excited, circumstances notwithstanding. Her passion for knowledge and science has always marked her, even in both worlds, and the thought of working and exchanging information with like minds in the most advanced medieval laboratory, plus the extent of materials available, gives her an anticipatory thrill.

Aldous slows down from his steps, and she turns to face him when she notices him falling behind.

"Ah, just the person I wanted to see." he says after squinting for a few moments, spotting black robes at the distance. It takes her a moment to realize where her feet have taken them, and that they have just alighted on the left wing. She watches uncertainly as he puts his hand up, gesturing at someone behind her.

And then she feels it, a forceful tug similar to the unexplainable vague sensation she felt when she snuck in during the preparation of Ethan's body. This time, it felt like an invisible internal string has just yanked her backwards with the force of a sledgehammer. This time, she follows her instinct, unable to resisit. This time, when she does, the tugging pulls away the air in her lungs, freezing her, along with her sense of time.

There, a hundred paces away, a pair of dark rimmed eyes is intently watching her.

_Cosima._Delphine can feel her heart jump out of her chest, running full speed towards the other way. _Cosima_, her mind whispers once more, _it's her. It's her, it's Cosima._

Aldous' muffled voice in her head becomes clearer when she faintly hears the word 'introduce', causing absolute mayhem in her. She has longed and yearned for this moment to happen and always thought that she'd know exactly what to do, but now that she's actually in the moment, it only feels as if she's drowning on air.

She is faintly aware of someone in black robes hurrying over towards them, her eyes still soaking in the red orange clad figure ahead,

"Maester Scott, this is the extraordinary potions master we'll be working with, Delphine." Both men look at her expectantly, waiting for a response, then notice her silence and the way her eyes are focused towards the small group Scott just left.

"I can introduce them." Scott blurts out. Aldous concedes, noting how the foreigner was staring with such intensity.

"Of course. Shall we?"

His voice finally elicits a nod from her, kicking her muscles to move. She mentally thanks and congratulates her legs for not losing their function as she walks in a trance, the three of them approaching Alison, Cosima, and Felix, her gaze never wavering nor breaking.

One by one, she notices the similarities and differences as the distance gets smaller. _She looks different somehow, but so much more the same. Her skin is more tanned, with an olive tone. Even her hair is in micro braids, and oh, mon dieu, she's wearing glasses, even if they look rudimentary, _and she stops herself from melting into a puddle at how adorable Cosima looks.

They are finally face to face, and what she felt when she turned around does not compare to what she's feeling now. Here, up close, Delphine wants to weep in relief at how healthy and alive Cosima is. _She's here, in front of me, no sickly palor, no dark circles under her eyes, no bony prominence. Even when we used the embryos Helena left behind, it wasn't a cure._She clenches her fists, taking all of her willpower in resisting the urge to reach out and touch her, to ascertain that this is finally reality and not just another dream.

_All those nights of wondering, of being haunted, of laughter and love and pain...Cosima..._

"Uh, uhm, everybody, this is Grand Maester Aldous and Delphine of Lys._" _Scott presents then turns to them. "And this is Lord Felix, Lady Alison Tully of Riverrun, and Co-..Princess Cosima Martel of Dorne."

"Thank you Maester Scott, I believe the herald has already done the job." Aldous' comment registers in Delphine's mind, _Wait, Scott? _and she finally breaks eye contact to truly see the Maester she hasn't bothered looking at moments ago.

_Merde, it IS Scott. _Her eyes sweep towards the other two who were looking at her, one with curiousity, the other with wonder. _Alison! And Felix!_ She cannot help but feel a tinge of trepidition at way the Lord of Whisperers eyes her up and down, reminiscent of the way he arched his brow at her, spatting her name as if it was an insult.

_**It's Delphine! She's got baggage.**_ And even when she tried being civil with him, murmuring a small "Felix" in acknowledgement, he still rolled his eyes in distrust and forced a "Delphine" out of his mouth.

_Non. It is not them. They are different people here. They are not the exact same person. _But even with her self reassurances, her response is instinctual, because when she looks at them, at him with his darker skin, her with her auburn hair, she still sees the same core, still sees Felix Dawkins and Alison Hendrix behind their Westerosi counterparts.

Her eyes go back to Cosima who was still looking up at her with a serious expression.

"I'm afraid Lady Rachel is requiring me and the Grand Maester to attend another small council meeting." Felix redirects, already stepping out of the group and waiting for Aldous to follow, who turns to Delphine before he does.

"Will it be alright if I leave you with Maester Scott and these two lovely ladies?"

"Of course. I trust I am in good hands."

"Lord Felix, let us go then."

They make an odd pair as they walk away, one clothed in pure black robes, the other in artful and glamorous colors.

Alison, trained and bred in social conversations, puts her skills to use.

"I hear you're an expert and that you'll be helping with the Maester's work."

"Yes, she will be" Scott replies enthusiastically for her. "Hey, Cosima's sort of an expert too, she's always researching. She's the brilliant maker of the best wine in all the Seven Kingdoms" he boasts.

_Wine. Of course she'd still be brilliant even in this male dominated world. Of course she'd still be researching and creating something. And of course it would be wine. _Green brown eyes look down at dark ones with adoration, the memory of wine bottles in their both hands as they escaped the scene of the crime with fingers intertwined coming to mind. _Wine. I also tasted the remnants of wine the first time she kissed me._ _Sacre bleu, now I want to kiss her._

Cosima was still intently looking at her.

_Badly, _she adds, her teeth instictively catching her bottom lip.

"Well," Scott claps his hand "it is an honor to have two masters here then. One of wine, and one of-"

"Poison?" a voice brazenly cuts in.

Cosima's words all catch them off guard, most of all Delphine, brows arching in confusion and concern. She wasn't expecting hostility, even if it was veiled, from Cosima herself. This causes her to look, truly look past her haze of emotions, at how the smaller woman was regarding her.

Distrust. Alarm. Doubt. Apprehension.

It cleaves her chest in two, a familiar sensation that she doesn't give much thought as to why because she is suffocating from the sharp kick between her lungs. Somehow, she manages to school her features into pleasant neutrality. Suddenly, all her fears and nervousness from all those times she wondered how different Cosima would be comes rushing back. _Was I wrong? Are the differences really that pronounced?Is she a totally different person? But no, that isn't...it's Cosima, I can feel it._

"N-no, potion." Scott was unsure if it was an honest mistake or not.

"Oh, right, of course, my mistake,"Cosima smiles but it lacks the usual warmth and sincerity in her trademark smiles "it's so easy to interchange the two, just one letter apart after all, right?"

Alison was livid, as expected, her eyes as wide as the smile on her face. "What are you doing?" she hisses between clenched teeth, shifting her body so half of it is facing Cosima, indicating how serious she is, then faces Delphine when the Dornish simply looks at her.

"Forgive her, she's usually cheerful. She has had trouble sleeping, and events like these always make her crabby. I'm sure a proper restful night will fix her up."

"No, no, it's okay, she's right. Potion, poison. They are just a letter apart, as she says." Delphine smiles, hoping this would somehow reassure Cosima and ease the situation.

"I'm going to accompany her to her room, to make sure she gets that rest, she's tired."

"I'm n-"

"Very tired." Alison interferes, already holding Cosima's arm in a vise-like grip and proceeds to drag in a deceptively forceful manner.

"I hope to see you again" the blonde murmurs when they pass, and this time, the charm and placation in her voice is gone as she drops her eyes, the sting and injury apparent.

Cosima grunts in response.

The moment they were out of earshot, Alison rounds on her friend and rants while pacing."By the mother, what is wrong with you? She was being polite, even after you insulted her, and you still refuse to act decently! You're not being yourself, Cosima, you're usually an open and trusting person, you always give people the benefit of the doubt, so why? Why were you acting that way? She's done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment, why do you have to be so rude to this wonderful person who is practically a stranger!"

"Because she's not a stranger!"

The ends of the blue grey gown swirl to a stop, the sound of pacing footsteps halting.

"What?" The incredulity and confoundment is overflowing.

"I've seen her before._" _

* * *

It's the year of the sheep, but the only thing that comes to mind is Helena. Because BAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

And I only realized that the Civil Wars' Poison and Wine is perfect for them.


	10. I'm Sorry and I'm Not

Right from the start, you were a thief, yous tole my heart

And I, your willing victim

Yep. That's the bg music in my head when Delphine finally saw Cosima

* * *

"Are you sure you'd rather be with boring old us than even more boring old them?" Cosima jibes at Alison, after Aynsley and Charity depart, mimicking her posture and tone, putting one arm across her torso while her knuckles rest under her chin, a finger on her cheek, causing Scott to chuckle.

Alison scowls. "No, I have...things to discuss with Lord Felix." Cosima raises both hands and shoulders in retreat.

He looks at her knowingly. "Oh, you do, do you?" Even he has a teasing tone.

"Yes,"she huffs, holding her head high as if that would compensate for her tiny frame. " the new Hand. Who is it going to be?" Felix had to give her credit for effectively shifting the conversation from herself.

"I'm not allowed to tell you. All I can say is that it's going to gather quite a reaction, but that it is a very sound choice." The two nobles squint their eyes at him. Cosima's mind was going through the possible candidates, but cannot think of anybody being a sound choice.

_I know of no one who can ever come close to being the Hand that Lord Ethan was...except..._

"Holy crikey, it's Rachel!"

Felix's brow arches up in surprise, but he neither denies nor confirms. _Well, she's as clever as they say. _His lack of response is enough for the princess to say "Ah, I knew it."

Felix still says nothing, even though he all but confirmed it.

"Wait, is that even allowed?" Cosima asks, the enormity of it dawning on her.

Scott nods in assent."It's not like the Order of Maesters where there is a strict males-only rule, but even if it is, it's going to be difficult, even for Lady Rachel."

"I'll have to agree." Alison chimes in "I know she's the first woman to ever be in the Small Council and that there are currently two now-"

"Two?" braids whirl around as Cosima looks at her in surprise.

"Yes, two" she responds distractedly "but it is one thing to be in the council, and another thing entirely to be the Hand. I heard there was a lot of protest when she became Master of Coin, and you've seen the reactions to the new Kingsguard being a woman, and I don't blame them."

Felix remembers Rachel's words when he brought up the same concern when the King chose her.

"_If they have a problem, they can address it directly to me...just like the last time, if you remember. A Lannister always pays her debts."_

"I think...I'm sure Lady Lannister can handle things. She has her own way of convincing people, just like the last time" he replies, borrowing her words.

"Yeah, how did she become Master of Coin in the first place?" Cosima has always wondered "and what do you mean just like the last time?"

Alison and Scott also turn to face him, not having quite heard the whole story themselves.

The Fairy clears his throat first, like a septa preparing to tell a cautionary tale to make the mischievous children behave, which, he realizes, might actually be the case here.

"It was three years ago, and there were still members of the Small Council from the Mad King's regime, one of those being the Master of Coin who became the Recently Deceased Master of Coin. A new replacement was needed, and Lord Ethan suggested his daughter for the position. As expected, there was a lot of protest, especially from the male nobles aspiring to be the replacement." He still remembers that day, because it was a day that made history, the day that a woman was given an official position for the first time

"_Your Grace, may I suggest Rachel Lannister as the next Master of Coin." Everybody, even Felix, was surprised and unsure of Ethan's proposal. There was immediate protest from the Master of Laws who was also from the days of the Mad King himself. "Preposterous! The Small Council is no place for a girl of, what, fourteen?fifteen?"_

"_She is eighteen, no longer a girl." **She hasn't been one ever since she turned twelve**, he mentally adds._

"_That is not the issue here. There are others who are older and have far more experience than your own daughter!", the aging Master of Law explodes, the word 'daughter' heavy with insinuation and criticism."It is simply out of the question."_

_Ethan knows that the old man is just voicing out what everybody is thinking, but he cannot completely keep the indignation out of his tone when he speaks._

"_If the issue is experience, she has been acting Lord of Casterly Rock for years now. I recommend her not because she's my daughter, but because of her capability. The Kingdom's treasury is running low, and we need someone who can handle that."_

_The Master of Law explodes "Are you saying the former Master of Coin was not doing his job?!" _

_**Yes**, Felix answers in his mind,** he was an incompetent graying fool who spent more time in my whorehouses than in this room. **_

_Ethan expected this, he knows he is making a huge and risky move, and convincing the higher ups and prominent people on the Capital will be next to impossible. He sighs patiently, then stands up to face the King._

"_I am saying that the kingdom needs a person who can rectify the treasury's problems, and I strongly believe Rachel to be capable of that." One by one, he meets their gazes, Aldous giving him a nod of approval. "When have I ever done something that is not for the Kingdom?" One by one, they drop their eyes. "When have I ever failed in my duty and judgement as Hand of the King? If you think that my duty as Hand is faltering, then maybe I'm not the man for the job." This time, King Donnie jumps a little from his seat, the Master of Law shifts in his chair uncomfortably, sputtering in defense._

"_Th-that is not what I meant. We all know you are invaluable, but threatening the small council to get what you want and instill a woman in this room, I think not! It just simply isn't done."_

"_You, as Master of Law, are very much aware that there is no law stating that a woman is not allowed in the council. It all falls on the King, he appoints whoever he chooses."_

"_Then I'm sure His Grace will abide by what he knows is right and appoint someone from the heads of notable houses."_

_Ethan draws to his full height and faces the king, slowly walking towards him as he speaks. "I know that what I'm suggesting may be too much, but at least give it a chance, give her a month for a chance to prove herself."_

"_A month?! What could she possibly accomplish in a month?"_

_Ethan ignores this, and looks down at the king in his seat. "Donnie" he whispers, and blue eyes stare up at him at the lack of a title, almost pleading, the indecision and uncertainty on what to do very apparent "a month, that is all I ask." He cracks under the gaze of the man he considers the kingdom's, and his own, hero, the man who saved the kingdom and made it prosper, keeping the peace over the years. He shuts his eyes for a moment, then faces the other members with a new resolve._

"_I grant one month as a trial period for Lady Rachel Lannister as Master of Coin, and that is my final decision." Nobody said anything, because nobody could argue and take back a king's decision, there was only silence to answer him._

_Felix finally says something to move them along from the silent spell. "I suppose that means this meeting is adjourned." There's the sound of chairs scraping and mumbling as they step out of the room._

_Felix was the last to exit, and he sees Donnie catching the Hand's arm before he could turn "I hope you're right about this." His voice is low; scared, but with a hardness in it._

"So she was able to replenish the treasury enough for the naysayers to concede, and in a month?" Cosima clarifies, having newfound,albeit reluctant, respect for Rachel.

"Actually, no, she tripled the city's best amount in two weeks. And now the Kingdom wouldn't be in debt for, oh, another hundred years or so."

"Tripled?"

"Two weeks?" The brainiacs were openly gaping, Alison more composed in her astonishment by bringing her hand to her lips in a startled manner.

"And all the highborn men who had a thing to say against it, they suddenly found themselves deep in debt and stripped of power, title, and dignity along with their money...let's just say they were never able to say nay again."

"Wh-howww?"

"Lady Rachel has an exceptional talent in handling things and negotiating deals, especially with the Iron Bank of Braavos. Plus, it doesn't hurt that they are the richest family. Not even the number of golden strands on those Lannister heads combined can rival the gold in their hands. The Master of Laws expired the year after that, and the second woman to be in council was appointed in the position, chosen also for her special and peculiar abilities. Surprisingly, there were fewer comments this time."

Scott looks absolutely terrified, and if Cosima wasn't scared of Rachel then, she certainly is now.

"Still, being the Hand is a whole new level," she manages to swallow her fear, "because then, she'd basically be...running the kingdom, and handling its...dealings_" . That means I'll be discussing my plans with her, if she even allows a discussion! _As her brain is realizing the implications of Rachel being the Hand of the King and its impact on her plans, she sees Felix's head jerk up towards something. Something compels her to look, and she wished she hadn't, because it felt like her heart slid down to her stomach, but at the same time, she couldn't pull her eyes away. There, at the end of the left wing, is the Grand Maester, and with him is the person who held the breath of every person moments ago, her back turned to them.

She feels something prickly travel all the way down to her toes as an internal alarm starts blaring inside her head, and then the pale woman turns(Cosima internally debating if she actually turned on slow motion or if it's just her imagination, and why the image was vaguely familiar to her), their eyes meeting for the first time. Even with the amount of space between them, she is very much aware of the sharp spark that punches right through her, and her body's recoil which is just as sharp.

She barely notices Scott as he leaves her side, responding to Aldous' wave, only aware of her heart making a riot. _She looks like a statue, _she notes the other woman's sudden immobility and the way she stared back, _like she's frozen to the spot...good, that makes two of us._ Cosima feels an unexplainable smugness at the last thought, and then she sees them walking.

_Oh my gods, they are moving, she's moving . Here. No, nonono, wait, that might actually be better than the other way around. I'm absolutely sure that my first step would end up with my face flat on the floor._

She's seen this same person walk before, but this time, closer and with their eyes never breaking contact, she finds she cannot think of a word to even describe it.

Delphine of Lys was walking with graceful fluidity that gives the illusion of floating, arms swinging lightly, perfect curls radiated by the golden light streaming through the windows above them.

"Holy hair..hell. Holy hell." Even Felix could not ignore the allure radiating form the golden strands. Once again, everything feels like it's happening in slow motion, and with every step taken, every inch that disappears between them, Cosima's intrinsic riot grows into utter chaos, warning bells gaining volume. It happened too long but was over much too quickly, and Cosima finds herself under scrutiny by hazel eyes.

She does the same, looking up in defiance, trying to find an explanation for the ominous feeling, the distrust, the enmity, the animosity, the obscure ache deep within her.

_She looks like she's about to cry...but why? _She suddenly finds herself wanting to look away, not because doe eyes were examining her, but because of the emotions behind them.

Cosima does not break eye contact.

"Uh, uhm, everybody, this is Grand Maester Aldous and Delphine of Lys._" _Scott presents then turns to them. "And this is Lord Felix, Lady Alison Tully of Riverrun, and Co-..Princess Cosima Martel of Dorne."

"Thank you Maester Scott, I believe the herald has already done the job."

The blonde's eyes register astonishment for a moment, her head turning to look at Scott, almost as if she recognized him. The way the blonde locks flashed with the movement makes a hit on the Dornish brain, replaying an almost similar scene.

_It's her! That flash of yellow, it's her hair! She's the one, the black figure lurking in the shadows during my first day here. I wasn't imagining things, it was real!_

There is a sense of indignant conviction that swells within her, turning into alarm when she remembers something else.

_My dreams. A black figure always standing over Lord Ethan's body..._

Her heartbeat skyrockets, her misgivings and suspicion growing by the second, her brain trying to make sense of things and connect them; her heart skips a little when a pair of eyes look back down at hers.

"I'm afraid Lady Rachel is requiring me and the Grand Maester to attend another small council meeting."

She hears Felix, but doesn't look away.

"Will it be alright if I leave you with Maester Scott and these two lovely ladies?"

_Yes, please, leave. _She can't explain it either, but she doesn't like the way the Grand Maester was looking at the blonde, confusing her all the more.

"Of course. I trust I am in good hands." The foreign accent sounds like heaven to her ears. _Gods, the way the words curl out of her tongue and lips is...wait, no, I should not be thinking about her tongue and lips, absolutely not._ Cosima's annoyance and irritation towards the potion master grows, not liking the roller coaster of thoughts and emotions she's being put through and not being able to fully explain it.

"Hey, Cosima's sort of an expert too, she's always researching. She's the brilliant maker of the best wine in all the Seven Kingdoms." The princess doesn't usually shy from her achievements, but this time, she is standing in front of an acknowledged and revered professional, and there is still a part of her that recognizes and respects that fact.

_Expert in potions,who would have thought. It must mean she knows the exact amount of every substance and their effect, otherwise it would be detrimental. A small miscalculation could have catastrophic results._ A horrifying thought occurs to her.

_Hold on. Potion...poison. I've always found it odd that Lord Ethan suddenly died from an illness, and if Rachel is as cunning as she is, I can't be the only one... It can't be. _Fury burns inside of her at the mere possibility, remembering the image of Ethan's body , cold and lifeless eyes staring up at a black figure. She glares up accusingly, and notices the adoring look being thrown at her, and the reactions her body is making finally makes her snap in anger, cutting Scott off.

"It is an honor to have two masters here then. One of wine, and one of-"

"Poison?" she knows it is brash and full of hostility, but at the moment she just doesn't care, defiance fueling her.

"N-no, potion."

"Oh, right, of course, my mistake," she smiles but even to herself, it felt more like a sneer "it's so easy to interchange the two, just one letter apart after all, right?"

From the corner of her eye, she sees Alison move to face her fully, hissing a "What are you doing?" followed by an apology to the foreigner. "Forgive her, she's usually cheerful. She has had trouble sleeping, and events like these always make her crabby. I'm sure a proper restful night will fix her up."

_What, no. Don't apologize, don't trust her._ But even the Dornish cannot blame Alison's reaction, because she herself knows she isn't like this, is never like this, _except for this particular femme fatale. What exactly is it with her, what is her connection to all of this?_

"No, no, it's okay, she's right." Cosima was expecting a reason, an excuse, a rationalization, a defense; she was not expecting this, and she is disappointed at the lack of reaction. "Potion, poison. They are just a letter apart, as she says."

Alison decides to take matters into her own hands. "I'm going to accompany her to her room, to make sure she gets that rest, she's tired."

"I'm n-"

"Very tired."she is cut off, feeling her friend's fingers digging into her arm and already dragging her away.

"I hope to see you again." She almost didn't hear the soft murmur as she is being dragged past. Something in the tone makes her look; the eyes are downcast but because Cosima is shorter, she can still see the hurt and crestfallen expression, and she immediately feels sorry, suddenly wanting to erase the crinkle of worry on those brows and comfort her. She can only grunt in response, hating her self-contradictory emotions.

Even as she is being dragged away, her thumping heart doesn't slow down. _The growing distance doesn't even decrease her effect, by the mother, how far does she have to be for me to be able to breathe properly? _And she looks back one more time, as though one more look would answer her query. She can see Scott chatting nervously with his new supervisor who, while appearing composed and reciprocative, has an unmistakable melancholy marring her face.

Alison's incessant and furious dragging takes them out of the throne room; Cosima was sure that her fingernails are now embedded in her bone with how tightly she was gripping her arm, and then she whirls around to verbally pounce on Cosima.

"By the mother, what is wrong with you?" _What is wrong with me is there's something off about her._

"She was being polite, even after you insulted her, and you still refuse to act decently!" _I was actually so caught up with my stupid confusing emotions that the only thing I could do was grunt._

"You're not being yourself, Cosima, you're usually an open and trusting person, you always give people the benefit of the doubt, so why?" _Because I've seen her enter the throne room without anybody noticing her...except me._

"Why were you acting that way?" _Because I cannot shake the feeling that she's connected with things happening right now. And my dreams...I can't shake them off either._

"She's done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment, why do you have to be so rude to this wonderful person who is practically a stranger!"

"Because she's not a stranger!" Cosima snaps just as loudly, not being able to keep it in anymore.

The ends of the blue grey gown swirl to a stop, the sound of pacing footsteps halting.

"What?" Alison was more surprised at her words than the fact that she yelled.

The princess sighs, not sure where or how to begin, but she lowers her voice. "I've seen her before._" _

"What do you mean you've seen her before?"

_How to explain..._ "Remember my first day here, when we were talking in the hallway? I saw something, or someone...it's her." she begins to pace while Alison is the one standing still. "I know you said you didn't see anything, but I did, and I saw her creeping in the shadows and enter the throne room, where Lord Ethan's body was being prepared." Her hands were swinging in mini arcs, stressing her point.

Her friend shifts in place, a doubtful expression on her face. "That's not possible, the guards would have been able to notice her."

"I know, but somehow, they didn't. And I...I've been having these dreams lately. Someone wearing black.. "

Alison was looking at her strangely. "Princess Cosima, I'm beginning to think you really are tired." she steps closer and puts a hand on Cosima's forhead. "And you were also tired from your journey back then, you could've been seeing things. And even if you weren't, " she hurries when she sees Cosima about to retort, brushing her hand away, "and by some miracle someone did get past the guards, it couldn't have been her, and that was days ago. She just arrived, even your friend Maester Scott said so. You've seen how she looks, it would have been impossible for anybody not to notice her if what you say is true."

"I know what I saw." the Dornish grits out though Alison's logic is sound. "I can't really explain it, but it was her. She sets off alarm bells, I know you feel it too." Her companion stares at her blankly, unsure of how to say no, but Cosima can hear it loud and clear.

"Come, I'll accompany you to your room," Alison reaches to hook her arm on Cosima's, but is shrugged away.

"I don't need you mothering me, Alison! Yes, I may be tired, but I'm not going crazy." and she stalks off alone in frustration.

* * *

"_Delphine Cormier. Not Beraud. You've already got your doctorate in Immunology, don't you?" _

_Merde._

_The expression on her face was twisting a knife in Delphine's chest, physically bringing her to her knees._

"_I'm so sorry." **I'm so sorry that I didn't know how to tell you, but I'm not sorry for giving in to my feelings for the one person I'm not supposed to. **_

"_I'm so stupid." She tries to reach out and soothe her, comfort her, trying not to let her slip away, but Cosima draws back, recoiling, she might as well have yelled 'don't touch me' by the way the knife was now hacking inside._

"_No, no, no you're not. You knew these all along." **Don't say that, you are far from stupid. You've always been too smart and cheeky for your own good.**_

_As the student calls out her deceptions one by one, the shame and guilt she's been feeling comes back a hundredfold; a thousandfold when she hears the words "I wanted to trust you", eyes full of betrayal staring at her._

"_You can trust me." **Please don't look at me like that, I'd prefer anger over disappointment any day.**_

"_Then you're the real danger, Delphine."_

_This was exactly what she was afraid of: Cosima slipping away, running away from her in all ways possible. "Get out!"_

"_Please listen to me" She was scrambling now, and she knows; scrambling to hold on to something, anything just so she won't lose this, lose her because she is being rejected by every attempt she has to touch Cosima. "Just let me...tell you this one thing. Just listen to me." **I never thought I'd bare my heart out this way...over your broken one, but I have to tell you, I have to let you know**. "I didn't want to fall for you. I wasn't supposed to..."_

_**Sometimes, I think it was unfair that you were my subject...I never stood a chance at not falling, I mean, how could I not? **_

_She swallows the lump in her throat. **Dieu, I just want to cry right now, but I know I have no right to.** "...but I have." _

"_How can I possibly believe that, Delphine?" The honest and sincere way she asked the question felt to the immunologist as if it invalidated all her feelings, and when she scoffs at her next words, she has never felt more inadequate._

"_It's not a lie, it's, it's not possible." **It can't be a lie. I don't think I've ever fallen this hard for someone, as I did for you, for me to choose my feelings over my career...I don't think I've even ever truly fallen in love until I met you. And this is a whole new territory for me because** "You know I've never been with a woman before."_

"_Yeah, it showed." It was a low blow, Cosima knew it, which was why she said it. Cosima, who was a fun, logical, forgiving person, who avoided hurting someone as much as possible, always aware of when there's a line to cross, went over and beyond that line, because she didn't just gamble her trust, she gambled her heart for this human puppy, every broken piece of it. It might have been said in the heat of the moment but this was different. This was personal, intimate; a shredding whereas the preceding moments were just knife twistings. _

_Nothing, absolutely nothing, until those three words has ever made Delphine feel like an utter failure and so helplessly insecure for something that she has earnestly and honestly pursued and wanted for herself because she wanted to. Her walls have been battered and broken but this...it went beyond those walls and obliterated what's inside. She stands, amazed that she still can, and slinks out of the room, tail tucked between her legs, and with what little prude she had left. _

_**I'll be damned before I let the first tear fall in front of her**. There was a tiny spark of anger and indignation amidst the pieces of her, but then she hears the sound of the broken sobs coming from inside, and it takes all of her willpower not to barge back in and do anything just to stop it._

Behind closed eyes, she was not just witnessing events...she was reliving them. Her breaths are ragged, the twisted and crumpled blankets a reflection of her heart.

"_There is no decision Cosima, you have one way forward, and this is it." **Circumstances be damned.**_

"_Out." It was barely a whisper, but for Delphine it was deafening, and she whispers just as softly, begging to be understood._

"_You don't understand." She was not willing to give up yet, **because everything I do is for you.**_

_This time, she does shout. "This is my lab, my body. I'm the science, get out!" It proves to be too much, and just like before, she strides out quickly, head hung low, not willing to let the tears show._

_The scene shifts to the clone looking at her with incredulity, eyes, once again, full of betrayal. Delphine, with her newly acquired responsibilities, doesn't know which hurts more, the way Cosima was looking at her, or the way Cosima looked. Her mind is whirring but her lips are stationary. _

_**She looks so pale, so fragile, losing weight everyday. **Her eyes drift towards dry and cracked lips, slightly ajar. **I wonder if kissing her lips would feel like broken glass, but if it were, I still would...I can't even remember the last time I kissed her properly, sincerely, with no worries and just with the love she deserves.** _

_The cracked lips move, a croak coming out, the sound breaking something inside the blonde._

"_How could you?"_

She jerks awake, her heart ricocheting in her chest all the way to her ears, her insides an absolute mess. And then she cries, broken heartwrenching sobs torn from the world that her mind is still lost and stuck in.

…

In another room in Maegor's Holdfast, a smaller woman is also twisting and turning in the sheets, shivering.

_She couldn't see the sun, there was only the darkness and the cold. She is alone, and she doesn't know where to go, but she forces her feet to trudge on, hopeful that she'll pass someone. She doesn't know how long she's been walking, but there, up ahead! A faint outline of something! She runs towards it, realizing that it was much bigger than she anticipated. It was a weirwood, a heart tree, the face carved on it looking as if it was crying. _

_Her hand slowly stretches out, gingerly touching below one eye. A squawk surprises her, and she looks up towards the sound._

_**Is that a...raven?** It keeps squawking, looking down at her. It was then she realizes that it had three eyes. She feels something warm trickling through her hand that was still touching the tree, causing her to look down in bewilderment. **What?**_

_A dark substance was flowing out of the tree's eyes, growing stronger and stronger until it was gushing out, drenching her whole arm and spilling on the ground below.**Blood..it's blood!**_

_She tries to yank her hand out in panic, but finds that she cannot, and the more she pulls, the stronger and more frantic the raven's squawks become. She heaves, one last time, giving it her all, and she tumbles backward, landing on her behind. It was eerily quiet, the squawking suddenly stopped and the tree has disappeared, even the blood on the snow was gone; there was absolutely no sign that it was there just a moment ago. She's breathing hard, still not having the strength to move. And then there is a single solitary squawk that echoes all around, causing her to turn. What she sees freezes her in fear. There was a pair of blue eyes watching her._

Cosima's eyes abruptly open, the panic still stirring in them; she wakes, her mouth with a gasp and a pounding in her heart, and when she touches her fingers to her eyelids they were as cold as ice.

...

Me to friends: watch Orphan Black!

Friend: Who's in it?

Me:Tatiana Maslany(and Tatiana Maslany and Tatiana Maslany...)

Friend: She the hero or the bad guy? Or maybe the anti hero?

Me:...Yup

Here it is, my first preview of the Master of Laws(actually, it was during the first council meeting, but I'm sure nobody caught that)I am darn bloody ecstatic to introduce her, because it's WTF worthy.


	11. The Dornish and the Dothrak

AN: I absolutely think that all the characters you're wondering if they'd show up have a high possibility of showing up...because Game of Thrones itself has too many characters and one can only do so much with OB characters...unless I get high or drunk or both and use all of project Leda and Project Castor. Mobilize all the clones!

Also, are people still reading this ridiculous stuff?

* * *

When she feels she has calmed down enough for her to think clearly, Delphine starts to analyze things in the most logical way that she can under the circumstances. Still, the look in Cosima's eyes and the way her voice broke is something that would follow Delphine for days.

_**How could you?**_

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts.

_**Who are you? It's like I don't even know you anymore. **_

_Me neither. _Delphine wonders if her younger self, the one who wasn't involved with the clones, with, DYAD, or Topside would recognize her if she saw herself now. _I highly doubt it._

_Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to endure this?_ She can feel another stab and another wave of tears.

_I had to keep on deceiving her for her own good...she always found out anyway._

A new theory emerges in her mind.

_That would explain things, or at least Cosima's behavior. I've seen how remnants of that other life still cling on to this one...my betrayals still echo for her, but I'm sure she doesn't remember. I suppose it's normal, expected even, for her to react that way._

She rakes a shaky hand through her curls.

_After the incident with Rachel, I had to fill in for the responsibilities...the decisions I had to make, the things I had to do...I don't blame her for hating me, when even I myself hate how I turned a shade darker everyday, for the sake of my love but also because of my ambition._

Delhine walks out to the balcony, hoping that the air would help clear her head; a futile attempt really.

_How is it that the only thing you want to do is save the person you love but the only thing you end up doing is hurt them?_

She understood, completely, and supposes that it is deserved.

_But still, it hurts, and the worst part is that I get it, but just because I understand why doesn't mean I am spared from the pain. _And as if on cue, the image of Cosima, angry, hurt, and broken, comes back to mind, trampling on the little coherence she managed to scrape back.

_Non, not at all, not one tiny little bit. _

She perched herself on the rail, her feet dangling dangerously over the side.

_I know this much, I don't know why but I have access and connection to my other memories, and now that I've been given another chance to be with her, a fresh start, there's no way in hell I'm giving up. _

A tiny part of her brain warns her and reminds her of her much bigger part and purpose there, of a world on the brink of destruction, but at the moment, still fresh from reliving her memories, Delphine didn't care.

* * *

Rachel goes to her father's study where she first saw his will, or her study, now that she's about to take his place. She tries not to remember the times that she has come here, addressing bussiness matters, her father askng her how her day went and she answers "it went well" with her usual indifferent tone.

She crosses the room and sits on the chair, focusing her mind on ignoring the pang of something,she doesn't want to explore it, and soak in on the power she now holds instead.

She hasn't come here since that night the foreigner arrived and demanded to see the body, but now, she has to because she needs her father's notes and plans, to get to know the Kingdom and everything going on if she's to succeed his place. She sorts through the piles and piles of unorganized papers and random things.

_How in the world did he run Westeros with all this mess? How would he even find what he was looking for?_ Her type A personality was cringing in disgust, missing the comfort of her previous pristine systematized sterile office, and if she could let servants clean and organize the place, she would, _but these are important documents, this room contains the important transactions and dealings of the kingdoms; I'll have to do it myself. _

Mechanically, she starts sorting the papers at the desk, but after an hour, she can feel the aches of physical labor, something she has never ever done. _I hate you for making me do this_.

Rachel Lannister does not sweat, she has never done menial chores, she's used to ordering people around, but here she is, sweating and organizing her father's study. The frustration of having to clean and fix his things finally gets to her, and she forcefully shoves the desk with a snarl. It makes her feel a little bit better;she sighs and places both palms at the edge and lets her arms hold her upper body up, closing her eyes with her head down and bracketed by her shoulders.

She opens her eyes, glaring at the floor where some of the papers now lay, somehow regretting her actions because now she has to pick them up. Huffing, she kneels, bending to gather them, and then she stops, her hand frozen in mid air. She squints her eyes at the small rectangular imperfection on the floor where the desk used to be covering. It is a smaller rectangle on one of the limestone blocks that make up the floor.

Anybody else would have missed it, but she is Rachel Lannister, and Rachel Lannister can spot imperfections as if they were the bane of the world. She skims her fingers over it, then slowly applies pressure on it. Nothing happens, and she tries pressing on different spots. When her fingers reach the top edge, she feels it give way, and presses harder until it slowly opens.

_A hidden compartment. How ingenious._

All her frustration evaporates, replaced by excitement at her discovery, only for it to return when she digs her hand in and pulls out scrolls of letters. They were unmarked, no signatures on them, but Rachel sees a name on one, and her jaw clenches.

_**My health seems to not agree with my drinking, but do not worry, little Cosima is all right, although she is now asking questions left and right that I have no idea how to answer. Damn you for giving her another book, I'm looking like an idiot in front of my daughter. Hah, you should visit and answer them, since you're the only person who can. She sleeps better now. And you should too, all is right in the realms, don't wear yourself down.**_

It was obviously from Sunspear, and she knows that her and Cosima's father were like brothers, but she never thought her father had a link with Cosima. She feels the twinges of resentment taking hold. She looks again at a particular line _**"But do not worry, little Cosima is all right..."**_

_He was worried about her? Asking about her? Did something happen? What is his concern?_ _Why is he concerned?_

She does not like having questions that are unanswered, which seem to pile up as she reads the other letters, all seemingly random and bearing no familiarity for her, but she knows that they mean something otherwise he would not have hidden them.

There is one particularly rough and primitive in appearance. _**I am not sure. Expect arrival to confirm. I warn you though, make no harm.**_

A nondescript one. _**They will be difficult to obtain, but it can be done. **_

Another roll of paper. **_The dark nights approach, wise Lion._**

_I swear I will get to the bottom of this,_she swears with determination, skimming through the rest.

A knock on the door startles her, because she has explicitly instructed that she won't be disturbed. She hurriedly puts everything back in its place, moving the desk to its original position, then stands up, her usual regal and composed self.

"Come in." Her voice was cold, ready to chew out whoever it is on the other side of the door, but when she sees who it is, she is more intrigued than irate, feeling a sense of deja vu.

_For the second time, she slipped past the guards. _

"Well, at least you knocked this time." she says icily at Delphine who was looking at the scatter in the room.

"He was never one for neatness." Rachel says in lieu of an explanation, "What is it that you came here for?"

"I would like to see the body one last time before you take him back to Casterly Rock."

"Haven't you poked and prodded enough already?" her voice was laced with animosity.

"No more. I only wish to see if there are differences, or if I may have missed something, although I doubt I have."

"You better not have." Rachel almost snarls.

"One final observation. Just to eliminate other possibilities."

"Really, if it weren't for your importance, I would have had your pretty head off your shoulders already." and she leads the way out of the room, locking and securing the door.

"Now that I don't doubt." Delphine replies half seriously.

Rachel half turns to her, and she swears there is almost a smile on her lips...almost.

* * *

Cosima slowly approaches the altar, coming to stop beside it, and looks down at the former Hand's body. It was the closest she's seen him, she had always avoided coming this close to pay her respects, but now, she couldn't put it off any longer, because his body will be interred in the morrow. She reaches out, cupping his jaw.

_I owe so much to you. You fostered my mind and acted as my second father. I don't think I can adequately express how much you influenced me. And even though our conversations can be counted on one hand, I'll miss them. I'll miss our intellecual exchanges. You were the best Hand this Kingdom has ever had. _

The lower part of her hand that's brushing his neck encounters a sharp line.

_What...? _she runs her fingers again, feeling the skin. It was almost imperceptible to detect, unless you knew it was there, _which must be why no one has ever noticed, _she thinks, then looks around at the solitary knight standing guard by the door, coming to a decision.

"Hey, hi, excuse me?" she smiles and waves.

He approaches. "Yes, Princess?"

"I was wondering if you could maybe stand guard outside the door. I'd like to have a moment in private, pay my final respects."

He looks at her with uncertainty.

"There's no one here but me, you can stand guard outside."

He seems to think it over, figuring that there's no harm in it. "Very well, Princess Cosima."

She returns to where she was, hanging her head, the very picture of mourning. The guard feels a sudden sympathy for her, and hurries out to grant her privacy. The moment she hears the doors close, she bends down, slowly turning Ethan's head to the left, looking for the line.

_It's a cut_.

She notices the way it transects the artery beneath it. She leans in for a closer look. _It's freshly made._ Her heart picks up its pace at this revelation. _Who would do this, and why?_

Once again, she remembers that dark cloaked person. _ Is this how they killed him?_ _Did she do this?_

In her crouching state, she notices something else, something not visible unless at a certain angle. On the small space where his chest was visible, she can faintly see another cut.

She looks back at the door, making sure she's alone for what she's about to do. Taking a deep breath, she unbuttons his top clothes, exposing his chest. She straightens, too dumbstruck for any coherent thought. There were cuts all over his body, one over his heart, another over his lungs, one more on the right side of his abdomen, and they all look recently done.

She was too shocked and gaping at her discovery that she didn't hear the door open, a sharp outraged voice echoing in the empty halls.

"What in seven hells do you think you're doing?!" She whirls around to see Rachel approaching with angry strides, the foreigner behind her. Cosima wonders what she was doing there with Rachel, but her attention is drawn away and towards Rachel's furious expression upon seeing her father's bare torso.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her voice was low, murderous, and under any other circumstance, Cosima would fear for her life, but at the moment, she is more troubled by Rachel's lack of reaction upon seeing the cuts.

_She knows. She knows about the cuts. _She can feel her own fury rising.

"I could ask you the same thing." she meets Rachel's glare head on and sees a pause in them, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Rachel's demeanor changes for the tiniest bit.

"It is none of your concern." she replies coldly, covering Ethan's body, fixing his attire. "Now walk out of here, forget this ever happened, and I might just let you live for desecrating his body."

Cosima forges on, not mindful of the danger she is in. "He was murdered wasn't he?"

For the second time, Rachel pauses. "It is none of your concern" she repeats, slower this time, each word punctuated with warning.

"Yes it is. The best thing that's ever happened to this kingdom was murdered" her eyes flit towards Delphine at the last word, whose eyebrow lifts in confusion, "and she's got something to do with it."

Both blondes were staring at her, one with shock and amazement, the other a mixture of wanting to strangle her and keeping a facade to refute the accusation, which she does in the next moment.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I saw her! Before her alleged arrival, I saw her slip inside the throne room after I-" _talked to you. _Dread, alarm, and chagrin blend in her head, noticing how Rachel was still immovable as ice. _She also knows about her._

"Were you in on this? Did you have him killed?" The words slipped out mindlessly, not having the time to be filtered because her head was racing. "Was this your plan all along? To be the next Hand?" Rachel's mask cracks, and she steps closer to Cosima, almost like a prowl, a lioness before the kill.

"Do you wish to reconsider your statement, Viper? You think I would have the Lord Hand harmed?"

Bespectacled eyes roll in annoyance at how formal everything sounded. "By the gods, you cannot even say his name. He's your father."

"And you are NOT his daughter!" Rachel explodes at the accusation she can hear in Cosima's words, as if she failed in being a proper daughter. It didn't help that, while she was brilliant, she has never connect to her father the way Cosima can in that intellectual scientific way. It also didn't help that she saw the paper with Cosima's name on it.

It is after she has left the throne room in shaky knees that Cosima realizes that this is the first time she has seen Rachel show a genuine reaction, uncovered without her usual mask, but at present, she was surprised by the outburst, wondering what Rachel meant.

"Maybe we should tell her the truth." A soft articulated voice reminds them that they were not alone. Rachel whirls around to face the other blonde, an unreadable expression on her face.

Delphine takes the silence as an opportunity and explains further. "She already knows that it is a possible murder, she knows I am involved with this, although not the way she thinks, and it's safe to say that she would not stop digging-"

"You're damn right about that." Cosima snaps, and doe eyes flicker towards her for a moment.

"-about this matter. It is also risky to dispose of her, because then, all of Dorne and Lady Alison will not let it rest. She was clever enough to come all this way, maybe she can even help, I've heard she has an exceptional mind, and I do believe it is true."

_You have? _Cosima is surprised, secretly pleased. _You do? _She notices Delphine smiling at her, and it was only then that she realized that she was the one smiling in the first place. She drops it immediately, annoyed that she apparently couldn't hold it back, annoyed at the small twitch of amusement at the corner of the potioner's mouth when she purposely stopped smiling, annoyed that she thinks Delphine smiling is one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen, annoyed that her chest is beating like a drum.

Rachel, who was still silent, still thinking of reasons not to act out on the numerous ways she has planned for Cosima to suffer, cannot deny the logic in those words, but mostly, she relents for the sake of her father.

"She can keep a secret. She would not endanger anyone or anything without having proof and facts." Martell and Lannister both stare at her, wondering what made her say those words seeing as they are still basically strangers to each other. _She can keep a secret extremely well, because she told no one of Ethan's cipher written in the book he gave Kira...not even her Alison or Sarah._ Delphine tries to erase the echoing "and not me" which she wouldn't even allow herself to think of.

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to Delphine of Lys." Rachel's eyes were boring down on Cosima, who she had to give credit for standing her ground.

"Because I intend to create more variety of alcohol and I have a business proposal for you."

The Lady Hand blinks, of all the things she expected to be said, this was definitely not one of them.

"You are not a business person."

"No, but I am the best vintner and soon to be best brewer, if you are willing to listen. I can leave the bussiness part to you." She gets no response, only a slight tilting of the head and hands clasping themselves in front of a thin gold belt, the one she recognized as the business pose.

"What is your proposal?"

"What is her purpose here?" Cosima counters, almost glaring at the person who she was admiring awhile ago.

For a moment, fire flashes in Rachel's eyes, subsiding as she gives herself time to simmer down, but when she speaks, it is with the same intensity. "She is here to confirm if he's been poisined. She had to collect certain parts from the corpse to be able to determine the presence of poison." She watches in amusement as different emotions flit through Cosima's very open and very readable face.

. . Then something resembling guilt.

As much as Rachel likes it with sadistic pleasure, she is also still very much murderous.

"Now what. Is. Your. Proposal."

This seems to snap Cosima out of whatever mental cognizance she was having." Yes. Uhm. The wine currently being made and shipped from Dorne is already top notch, but sometimes we cannot meet the demands from King's Landing alone. I can set up a cellar here, have products exclusively for the Capitol, save the money and effort for transport. You can even sell them if you wish."

Delphine silently watches the interaction, a spectator on the side. Rachel can appear indifferent all she wants, but Delphine knows that she would not pass up an opportunity like this. Then again, it's Rachel, and she takes insults personally.

"And what is it that you're after?"

"I would like to have a tour in King's Landing and High Garden's fields and granaries, I intend to make a new stock of ale and wine with new flavors, test new formulations and methods, along with the type of wood to be used as barrels. It would bring income for both the Capital and Dorne."

"This is not a negotiation."

"It is if I am to produce the best in quality."

The innate drive for Rachel to always strive for the best, be it something she does or something she acquires, finally rules over. "Very well, but I'll have to speak to Lady Tyrell first before you poke your fingers in her fields." She turns, finished with the conversation and about to call the guard outside to take her conundrum out of the room.

"Also, I request my own work place, I'd like to do my research here."

Rachel cannot believe this, her, the master at twisting people's arms, has hers twisted behind her back by _this damn Dornish._

"Fine." she sneers.

"Wait, really?" Cosima did not expect her to actually agree, since she herself thinks that it is already pushing beyond the line.

"But remember that this is the last and only time you will ever walk away from me without burn marks, not after accusing me and insulting me. Consider yourself lucky that there was someone here on your behalf, and that you had something to offer in exchange." And without another word, she calls out for the guard.

The princess was staring at the taller blonde who was smiling at her. _Why did she speak in my behalf?_ She doesn't know what she's feeling, which one to process first, because true, she may have had some of her questions answered, but more questions cropped up in their place. She feels a hand close in on her arm, and is suddenly aware of the gauntlet tugging her away.

"And make sure she actually goes to where she says." It was more of a threat than a reminder, answered with a nervous "Yes, m'lady."

Cosima drops her eyes, not ready to have her heart running all over again, but when she passes by Delphine, she is close enough to feel the warmth from pale skin. It makes her shiver, and she hates it.

When they are out of the Great Hall, she finally gives in to the shakiness in her knees.

"Hold on. Can we stop?" she yanks at her arm, forcing the guard to stop and look at her with resentment, blaming her for putting him in a difficult situation. "I'm feeling a little...shaky at the moment." his expression turns to worry as she leans her weight on the wall, her chest heaving and her eyes closed.

_Wow. That could have gone worse. I didn't expect for Rachel to actually accept my terms. I also didn't expect her to move hell and high water just to prove if it's a murder._ On that note, her jumbled thoughts become even more jumbled as the person who will be proving the murder comes to mind. _How will she prove it? What are her methods? And how did she know so much about me? How did she escape detection for days if she was here before she was presented? Why do I still hear the warning bells in my head if she didn't kill him? Why does it always feel like this whenever she looks at me, or when she smiles at me, or even if it's simply her is it that I always feel like running and match my heart's pace whenever she's there...I don't even know if I want to run from her or to her. _

Question upon question heap up on each other, making her grimace. The guard looks at her, unsure. "Where to, princess?"

"Maegor's holdfast" she decides having a puff of a certain Dornish plant would help her relax.

* * *

It has been three days since Rachel watched the cart with her father's remains disappear in the horizon, bound for Casterly Rock. Donnie had offered a place in the Sept of Baelor, that he can have a spot because he earned it and is very much deserving, which is a great honor because only royals are interred there. She refused. _He would have wanted his body to be beside mother's._

And now she's standing before the King, back turned towards the people who have come to witness the official naming, controlling the urge to grab the pin and put it on herself at Donnie's clumsy attempts to pin it on her finest dress. When he finally manages to do it, he straightens, beads of sweat clinging on his forehead.

"I present to you, the new Hand of the King."

She faces the crowd, mostly cheering, but some, particularly the older men from noble houses, wore long faces. Her glare reminds them of the fate of those who dared oppose and question her position as Master of Coin, and they rethink their decision, slowly clapping along.

The doors suddenly open loudly, and everyone turns to look at the interruption.

When the person who barged in steps into view, the whole crowd gasps as one, but not in enraptured manner like Delphine's case, but of pure shock. A brief silence hangs around the room, and once the initial shock is over, the silence is broken by the torrent of murmurs and whispers. Some were in awe and fascinated, (Cosima and Scott), some were flabbergasted and alarmed(Alison), most were aghast, horror and disgust painted on their faces as if she was an anomaly, which she sort of is. She stops at a small distance below the Iron throne. Delphine's eyes were wide with recognition, mentally commenting on how this is unmistakably the same person, but rougher, more raw, more primal and untamed.

They are unabashedly gaping at the coopery skin, painted with blue stripes starting from beneath the collar bones, stretching and forming a V to her lower back. There were braids on the right side of her scalp, dark eyes fierce and painted with khol, sinewy arms bent a bit at the elbows, leather wrapped hands casually atop the handle of an arakh and a curved dagger on either side of the hips.

When she speaks, her voice is rough and guttural, belying her feral intensity.

"_Khal vezhven_" She addresses the King.

* * *

I don't know if this is a surprise or not, because I've been running on coffee for the past 2 days now. I'm pretty sure I have more coffee in my veins than I have blood. These characters have destroyed me in the most wonderful way.  
Ok. I think I'll go sleep now, I'm slowly turning more and more like Helena the longer I stay awake.


	12. The Princess and the Barbarian

AN: Apologies, truly. Late update. Life sucks, I suck. Really sorry. Unedited, sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

"_Khal vehzven" Great King._

It was supposed to be a greeting in reverence, but by the harsh way it was spat from her mouth, it sounded more like scoffing mockery, punctuated by the stony glare she was casting towards the Iron Throne. Amidst the slowly gathering murmers, the notable people were still curiously shocked to silence.

The King looks flabbergasted, disbelieving the scene.

The Master of Whisperers is carefully observing, as if trying to look for something.

The Grand Maester is half up in his chair, a confused but almost delighted expression on is face.

And the newly officiated Hand of the King...well, she was glaring right back with the same intensity, sure that they were still all silent because they were all thinking the same supposedly impossible thing: a Dothraki just set foot in the very heart of Westeros.

She appeared to ba casually standing there, but in Delphine's eyes, she is a tightly coiled spring, an untamed free spirited mare that can trample and crush. And then she moves, her hand reaching towards her hip. Beth, Paul, and Art were the first to kick into action, stepping forward with swords drawn. It seemed to be the trigger, causing a chain reaction.

The dothrak has dropped what she was holding a second ago, letting it flutter to the floor and drawing both her arakh and dagger the moment she heard the sound of steel being drawn.

The Kingsguard were slowly circling her, armed to the teeth while the stranger mirrors their every cautious move, ready to pounce at the first attack.

Delphine utters an urgent "wait", prompting both Felix and Cosima to look at her in question, even though they agree to her hasty word.

The crowd's disquiet has intensified, some staring in horror and fear, some itching to see a fight.

Rachel's eye is drawn towards the floor, an image catching her eye, and before everything escalates and blood is drawn, she calls for them to stop. Her voice is drowned in the mayhem, and she puts every ounce of command and power in her voice the second time around.

"I said ENOUGH!"

The sound echoes through the halls, overpowering the previous cacophany. Everyone stills, every single one of them freezes and looks at her, even the fighters, rooted in their fighting stances. It gives Rachel the first power high as Hand of the King, and she revels in it, in the way people automatically respond to her, but then her eyes land on the enigma wrapped in leather, braids, and kohl. Half crouched, with both weapons at the ready, every muscle under the cooper tinged skin corded in anticipation, she looks absolutely feral and dangerous. Even though she appears calm, there is a jut in her jaw, the only physical giveaway of the unbridled energy inside of her. That, and her eyes, which were currently trained on Rachel who was gazing right back, who couldn't stop the involuntary shiver that creeps up her spine at the roaring fire she can see behind those dark dark eyes.

"Bring me the parchment." Rachel congratulates her voicebox for not wavering, her tone still crisp and commanding. The Kingsguard appear confused for a moment, until they saw it, there, splayed out adjacent to leather boots, a silent admonishment as they realize their mistake, that the Dothraki was reaching for this, and not a weapon. They were all hesitant to move, the danger emanating from her enough to hold them off, until the rustle of armor is heard as one of them takes a step towards the paper. There is a low growl in response, the eyes that previously held Rachel's gaze now focused on the knight who took a step, frozen in the advance when she growled and tilted her head down.

Beth puts a hand up, then slowly lowers her sword to the ground, and slowly getting back up again, but she notices that there is no change from the other warrior.

_I don't blame her, not after the way we almost jumped at her for reaching a damn roll of paper, even if we were just doing our jobs._ She puts both hands up in front of her, showing that she is unarmed, and with the same slow movements, reaches to take her helmet off. This finally ellicits a response in the form of a slow shift of the dothrak's head.

Beth's eyes dart down towards the parchment, then goes back up to meet the steely gaze, a silent request. It takes a moment, but leather boots finally take a careful step back, and another one, her stance and form still ready to spring into action any time. Beth steps forward, hands still held up, picks the paper up, then slowly retreats, their eyes boring into each other the whole time until she had to turn around to deliver the paper to the Hand, but not before she took a glimpse at it, her face almost giving away her own surprise upon seeing the distinctive red seal, before she schools her features and hands it over.

"My Lo...Lady Hand."

Rachel's brow rises imperceptively, and stares a little too long at the broken wax seal. She unfurls it, her eyes going through the words over and over, not quite wanting to believe their existence.

_From the study of The Hand of the King_

_No harm shall come to the person carrying this missive , shall be allowed entrance into the city gates as an honored guest and will be escorted to the Tower of the Hand upon arrival. _

And at the very bottom is a very distinct, (and to Rachel, very infuriating) symbol. The very same one pinned to her chest.

_Welll, that explains how she managed to reach the throne room. _She finally rerolls it at the sound of Donnie clearing his throat.

"What is the meaning of this? What does she want?"

Rachel turns her expressionless mask at him, and he almost cringes, trying to keep a straight face as he reaches for the paper being handed to him.

Once he finished reading it, he slowly glances up, meeting Rachel's very calm and composed face.

"If this is true, what shall we do? What bussiness did Lord Ethan have with a Dothraki of all people?"

_That's what I'd like to find out. _Her eyes catch the way Delphine was surveying the scene, and while everybody else looked alarmed, she looked almost worried, like she knew someone in the fray of knights and the solitary oddity in the center, all in their fighting stance, except for Beth, opting to lower her sword in a neutral fasion.

"Lower your swords." This from Donnie.

Lord Commander Gavin immediately protests "Your Grace, she is armed. Your safety is our priority."

"She won't hurt me." Rachel almost scoffs out loud. _Don't be too sure of that._

"Your swords, put them away." One by one, they reluctantly straighten from their stance and sheath their swords, while the newcomer still looks battle ready, never once considering to drop her guard.

"You can put it away, I've ordered them to stand down." The king was talking to her as though trying to pacify a wild animal. "Now tell us why it is that you had to come all the way here", he asks, expecting her to respond.

But she doesn't, she just continues to stare.

"Did you know Ethan Lannister?" he tries again, still not getting a reaction.

"Your Grace, I do believe our guest cannot understand a word you are saying." Rachel interferes, dark eyes shifting from the king to her. "She is a barbarian after all."

"Then how are we supposed to understand each other if she can't understand a word I'm saying?" he asks, then seems to come to a solution, and steps towards her.

There is an instant murmur from the crowd, and a litany of "your grace!" from a handful of the kingsguard. He does not stop advancing, causing the dothraki to tense, coiling like a spring, ready to attack, which the kingsguard recognize and they immediately draw their swords.

"_**Ohos! Os**!"_ Be Still. Don't move. The leather clad stranger turns a full 180 degrees at the sound, her arakh now trained on the person who just spoke.

Everybody, Delphine especially, freezes at the unexpected interruption.

_No. Nonono. What are you doing?_

There, in the front row of the crowd, someone in a very familiar light orange dress and microbraids has stepped forward, jerking her hands up when she sees the weapons now being aimed at her.

"**_Yer dothraki?...uhm..lajak_**?" You are dothraki?..uhm..a fighter?

Cosima waves one of her hands around as she recalls what she knows of the dothraki vocabulary, not all that sure if she said it right, but is deemed to be so when there is a hoarse and heavily accented reply.

"_**Sek**._" Yes.

All eyes are now drawn towards the princess of Dorne, and beside her, she can hear Alison hissing "You speak Dothraki?" which seems to be everybody's singular thought at the moment.

Please don't make any sudden movements. Those knights are protecting the king, and they will attack you if they so much think you are a threat, and right now, you look very very threatening.

The dothraki's eyes flit towards the Whitecloaks, warily surrounding her while pushing the king back to safety.

"Well well, it seems your cleverness has its purpose other than give me a headache." Rachel comments drolly. "Ask this animal the King wants to know what she came here for."

Cosima throws her a look, before turning her attention back to situation at hand, translating the question, but hesitates in translating the reply she got.

"Well?" Rachel snaps impatiently, "What did she say?"

"She says she isn't here for the king, and was specifically instructed not to talk to anyone but the Hand of the King."

"I AM the Hand of the King."her voice at a very civil volume but her tone brimming with danger. She boldly steps down to the ground level, brushing off the scurrying and efforts of the Kingsguard to protect her, and approches the newcomer who has now turned to look at her. She stops at a distance, a poised intersection of danger and elegance, directly addressing the warrior in front of her. "So you will answer my questions and we will come to terms." She does her best not to look away from those black rimmed eyes quietly sizing her up, resting on her chest.

_Why the hell is she looking at my breast?_

Those eyes glance up to meet Rachel's indignant ones, and she _smirks_ before giving a small nod, then lowers her dagger and curved blade.

_Oh. _realization almost makes Rachel blush. _Stupid. She wasn't looking at my chest, she was looking at the Hand's pin._ She projects her self anger outward, because that's one of the things she does best.

"Princess." she barks out at Cosima. "since you understand savage-talk, might you accompany the guards in taking this barbarian to one of the holding cells until a further decision is fully discussed."

Donnie immediately appears at her side, whispering his protest "But Lady Rachel, your father's note says-"

"Your Grace, I know what the note says, but there is no proof that it is from my father. As you can see, she is dangerous, her very presence in King's Landing is an anomaly. Until further discussion, she has to be contained."

He mulls it over, then nods. "If you think it's for the best...I leave this matter to you then, since technically, she came to see you."

_I haven't thought of it like that._

"While this matter is being discussed, if she ever draws her weapons again, it will be the last she'll ever draw them. Kindly make sure that she understands that." she smiles at Cosima who looked perplexed, paraphrasing it to a simple "no weapons".

Rachel gets a brow raise from the braided warrior, which almost seems like a defiant challenge, as if she knew that those two words weren't all she said, her anger visibly growing the more she listens to Cosima explain the situation, her grip tightening painfully on her weapons. There is a moment of bated breath, everybody waiting for her next move. She contemplates attacking, but her survival instinct forces her to acknowledge the fact that despite being a superb fighter, she is surrounded and outnumbered. Her weapons go back to their places by her hips, and there is a very palpable sense of relief from the air.

"Good." the Hand smiles, watching three of the Kingsguard and Cosima lead her away, all eyes trained on their retreating figures.

When the doors shut close and snatch them from view, Rachel grits her teeth.

_Brilliant. Now I have a barbarian atop the princess mystery I have to figure out. Damn it father, even in death, you still manage to give me problems._

* * *

Beth, being in the rear guard, listens in on the conversation, trying to understand as much as she can as Cosima navigates her way through the dothraki tongue. As a knight, she is wary of this stranger, and she is not just a knight, she is in the Kingsguard, it is her sowrn duty to neutralize anything that might harm the King, which is exactly what this dothraki is. But more than that, she is intrigued.

_She is a trained fighter, there is no doubt about that...a screamer...a horselord. _She tries not to smile as Cosima's hands flail around, trying to capture and grasp some of the words she's having difficulty expressing with, while the person she's talking to looks bored and wants to bail as soon as possible.

_Well, at least there's three of us protecting her while her curiousity is overpowering her sense of danger...although I don't think our mystery visitor intends to hurt her...she looks as though she just wants things to be over so she can get away._

She hears the princess mention her name, pointing to her chest, and she figures that Cosima is introducing herself, then asks what Beth was sure is "What is your name?". There was no reply long enough for Beth to think maybe she guessed wrong, until the dothraki glances briefly at her, then speaks in her rough accent.

"Sarah."it was spoken cautiously but with warning. Cosima, however, decides to let it fly over her head and smiles one of her goofy smiles, switching to the common tongue.

"Sarah. Welcome to King's Landing."

Her shit eating grin, however, is dashed once they reach the holding cell. Cosima doesn't know how to downplay what she is about to say, trying not to cower under a death glare when she does say it. _Shit. Okay. I can do this._

"Sara, I'm sorry, but you have to surrender your weapons."

Under the murderous glower, she starts rambling in explanation, not even noticing that she's speaking the common tongue.

"I know you don't want to, but Rachel, the Hand? She will make things all the more difficult if you resist, and trust me, she is one scary lady. And if you are to negotiate things with her..."

Ser Arthur quietly glances at Beth, unsure of how to proceed. Beth catches his stare, and interrupts before they all get winded from the word vomit.

"Princess. Tell her it's only temporary. I will return her weapons first thing myself if they come to a decision."

Sarah listens with the same expression, turning her glare towards Beth who was patiently waiting for her to hand over her blades. Finally, with great reluctance, she gives them up, looking up at Beth with a face that says 'you better return them'. The knight nods, carefully tucking the weapons under her arm, then turns to Cosima.

"How do you say thank you in dothraki?"

There is a moment of pondering. "I don't think there is a word for thank you."

* * *

I know, I know, I wasn't satisfied with this either, it's rather short. I'll try to make it up on the next one. But it's hard to get things together when you can't even get your life together. Hurrah. I'm trying my best though. And your thoughts are always appreciated.


	13. Scars and Shelves

Internet was down, but here, I present you with an update, if anybody's still reading.

Bold words are spoken in Dothraki.

* * *

The door scapes to a shut and Sarah is seething, her escorts having just left her in her cell, the one with the funny eye contraption and speaks dothraki giving her one last look of apology as they shut the thick door with its iron bars. It's a small space, made of stone bricks, a small barred window, a small wooden chair in the corner, a rickety old cot she thought could not even hold a child is shoved to the side, and a dank bucket as a privy is in another corner. She surveys the place, the rushes crunching under her leather boots, her lip snarling in disgust.

_I, a rider of the vast plains, and never submitted to anyone I cannot defeat, am locked inside A FUCKING CAGE!_

She had been holding back, the very moment she walked into the big room with the silly king who looked to have never fought a day in his life, the moment they drew their weapons at her, the moment when she was looked down on by that infuriating woman in that infuriating red dress with her infuriating beautiful ice cold face, but at the present moment, she lets her fury rip out from her, the meager table and cot demolished to splinters as she rampages inside her cell. She has agreed to let them strip her of her pride as a dothraki, but they have stripped her of her weapons as well, and she has never felt so naked, so vulnerable, with nothing to grip as assurance, nothing to fight with.

_I have no choice but to trust these people in their strange clothing to keep their word and not harm me._

Sarah doesn't like it. Sarah doesn't like it one bit, because Sarah does not trust, always having to rely on steel, speed, and strength to survive.

She thinks of her dagger, something she has never ever not worn, on the hands of someone else, and it makes her want to fix everything she broke just so she can break it again, and her mind inevitably veers towards how she ended up here in this strange land.

_Seven months ago._

"**No, I will not bloody leave Vaes Dothrak to go to this foreign land, you cannot make me!**_"_

"_Sarah, I told you to use the common tongue when it is just the two of us."_

_Sarah glares at the leader of the Dosh Khaleen, Khaleesis of past who now govern Vaes Dothrak. She was sitting on a chair with furs and bones, a staff at her hand, signfying her status. _

"**Sorfosor nakha she Havazzhifi Kazga. Vo hrazef laz yoma evethiz. Me nem nesa. "** s_he stubbornly refuses, preferring the dothraki tongue._** (**_The earth ends at The Black Salt Sea. No horse can cross the poison water. It is known.)_

"_Sarah._" _this time, it was a command, a reminder of who she was speaking to._

"_You can't." Sarah meets her eyes, relenting on speaking the common tongue. "You can't make me, Siobhan." The head of the Dosh Khaleen shifts a little at the mention of her name, having not heard it for so long, even from the person she brought up as her own. For the first time, the anger gives way to something else, and her heart breaks a little when she sees the pleading in those eyes, sees the scared child all those years ago._

"_I don't like this any more than you do child, believe me."_

"_Then WHY? First you forbid me to ride with the khalasar, never letting me out of Vaes Dothrak, and now you want to send me away to the ends of the earth?"_

"_The answer lies in your destination."_

"_I don't want an answer, I want to stay here and ride with the khalasar."_

"_Sarah, we talked about this."_

"_No, we didn't, you ordered me not to, without really telling me anything!"_

"_Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons.__" Sarah goes perfectly still._

"_Am I not Dothraki enough for you?" Siobhan realizes her mistake, seeing the the look in Sarah's eyes, more hurt than angry._

"_Sarah-"_

"_Is this what this is about? Because I am not Dothraki born? Have I not proven myself already? Am I not one of your best riders? One of your best fighters? Is that why you did not allow the Khal to take me as his ko even though I am worthy of it?"_

"_Sarah, no, you don't have to prove anything. You are Dothraki through and through. "_

_Siobhan knows it does nothing to appease the younger woman, that it has always been a sensitive subject for her. She stands up and approaches Sarah, putting on every ounce of authority she can muster._

"_You are Dothraki, and I am the head of your Dosh Khaleen. Do you not trust my wisdom, do you question my decisions?" It is automatic for the warrior to bow down on one knee, for no one dares to stand and question the leader of the old crones who rule their holy city, but she cannot stop gritting her teeth. _

_She feels a strong grip on her shoulders, pulling her up, and at that moment she knows she cannot outright question Siobhan as the Dosh khaleen, but she also cannot question Siobhan's love as a mother, she can see it as she stands eye to eye with the woman who has brought her up._

"_This is for you child." her voice was kinder, her eyes softer. "The reason is you, it is for you. It is there, across the sea. You must go." She slowly cradles Sarah's face in her hand, feeling the jut of her jaw, the swallowed protests, and finally, the stiff nod._

"_You ride tomorrow." From the pockets of her chest, she produces a scroll marked with a red seal."This is from one called Ethan Lannister, and you will speak to no one but him, understand? This will grant you safety and access in your destination." She puts her hand back on Sarah's face. "May the Great Stallion ride with you." She feels her 'daughter' rip herself away from her touch, stiffly walking out to her tent, no doubt to pack her things, but just before she can step outside, Siobhan calls her name. She stops, but she does not turn._

"_When you come back, I will let you ride with the khalasar." It does the trick of making her turn, the first traces of anything else that wasn't anger and resentment painting her face._

"_As a ko." This time, there was an almost smile on her lips as she grunts, then bows, taking her leave._

* * *

_If not for what I get out of this, I would not be in this stinking crowded place, caged like an animal._

And she gives the poor chair one last kick, making sure it is unrecognizable from its former appearance, trying to calm down, but she paces any way, until it feels like the floor is worn out from her boots.

In the vast expanse of shelves in the library, Cosima is standing in the section about Essos, staring at a similar copy of a particular book Ethan gave her during her 12th nameday, never imagining that the contents of the book would come to be of practical use on that very same day.

_Who would have thought..._

"Pssst. Princess Cosima." She is deep in thought, and she doesn't hear the whispering, which eventually turned into hissing, throat clearing, and hand flapping that is happening in the shadowy edges of the shelves. Something sails past her eyes and she jerks with a start, turning her head to see where it came from. At first, she couldn't see much, but with a little squinting, she could make out Scott's figure behind the shelves. She walks as casually as she can towards him, until she is close enough to pull him further away from prying eyes.

"Here are the books I promised you." He reveals the bulge at his stomach to be a small sack containing a few books.

She reads the titles aloud, inspecting them one by one. "The Winters of Westeros...The Old Gods and the New... An Account of the History of Houses...Different Wines and the Science of Winemaking." She picks the last book up, noticing that it was relatively thinner than the others, looking more like an elegant journal than a book.

"This is incredible," she breathes out, scanning the contents, coming across words like cabernet sauvignon, pinot noir and different varietals. "I didn't ask for this, but thank you, I never knew it existed."

"Neither did I. I was just looking for the specific ones you asked."

"Where did you find it?"

"I didn't, that wasn't in the Maester's Library. It was given to me by the potion's master, to give to you."

"The po-Delphine?" Her eyebrows crunch together in confusion.

"Yes." he sighs dreamily at the mention of her name.

"How exactly did that happen?"

"Sheeee might have known that I was taking out books which weren't supposed to ba taken out."

"What?! You told her?" she hisses.

"No! nothing like that." he rushes the next words out. "I mean, she noticed that there were certain books that I was looking for and asked me about them, then she must have noticed that they weren't in their shelves the next day. She cornered me and asked me where they have gone."

"And you couldn't lie? You just dropped my name?"

"What? No! Of course not, I never mentioned your name, but other than that, what was I supposed to say?"she regrets her words at Scott's hurt tone.

_I shouldn't take it out on him, he's the one doing me a favore here. It's not his fault, I mean, who could blame him? Anybody being cornered by that woman would probably confess the truth into anything she asked._

She sighs, then softens her tone.

"I'm sorry, Scott, I know you could get into trouble but you're still willing to do it. What exactly did she say?"

"Uh, she took them from me and asked if I found her demonstrations and teachings boring or too complicated that I would result to these books which were way out of context from what we should be doing and learning."

"What did you say?"

"I said no, far from it, she's actually really good in sharing what she knows without us being lost. I just said that I'm helping out a fellow who is interested in..these." He points out.

She looks at the book again, scanning the neat and elegant handwriting. "How?" she says almost absentmindedly

"How what?"

She meets his eyes. "It's about wine and wine making. Some of the terms here even I have never heard of. So how?" she asks, holding the book up, the irrefutable evidence that it was for her. "How did she know it was me?"

Scott shrugs, "She just kept looking like them, much like how you're looking at that one actually, then handed them back to me, told me to wait, then came back with that."

"What if she tells the Grand Maester?"

"Oh, no, she said she won't tell anybody."

"But how do we know if we can trust her?"

"We have no choice...Cosima. I don't know why you don't trust her, but she seems like a very decent and good person." He puts his hand on top of hers, trying to put her at ease. It was still foreign for him to address her so casually. "I did my best."

"Yeah. Yeah, Scott, I know, I'm sorry. Thank you for these. Hopefully, I'll be able to find something in them."

"There's actually this book, which I think is the exact thing you're looking for, A History of the Old World, but it's in the Grand Maester's private library, so I couldn't get it. Even we have to ask permission from him first, and it never leaves his study." her face fell in dismay.

"There's no one else I can ask except the Grand Maester himself, and there is no way in seven hells I'm doing that. There has to be another way to get that book."

"About that..." he retracts his hand, but Cosima catches the hesitation in his tone.

"What?"

"..."

"Scott."

_And Maester Scott, tell this fellow of yours to come to me in the future if he or she ever needs more reading materials. Maybe I can help._

"Well, she also said she can help."

"No."

"She has access to that book."

"I said no. I'll get it myself if I have to, but I will never...wait," her head perks up, "maybe I can." her companion not liking where this is going.

"I just need to be there when it's empty. Give me the schedule of your working hours."

He was getting paler the more she talked. "I can't do that, what we're doing is serious bussiness, we are adding and expanding another branch on potions, some of those substances are very harmful. And like I said, it's in his private library, nobody simply walks in in there without him knowing."

Cosima is silent for a while, her expression making Scott grow even paler. "just give me your schedules. Let me handle the rest, I might know someone who knows a way in."

"Cosima, I can't, this is serious. You're a princess, I'm not, and my head would be on a spike if something goes wrong." For the first time, she sees serious panic and worry on his face.

"Scott, I'll never give up your name, that's why I'm the one going, so if I get caught, I'll be the only one to blame."

"But-"

"Trust me."

He looks at her helplessly. "What is this really about Cosima?"

She takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

…

"My Lady , this is not a forgery, it is Lord Ethan's writing and signature." Felix was holding the paper up, examining it closely. Currently, the Grand Maester, The Hand, the Lord Commander and himself, were convening in the small council, the King off somewhere to do as he pleases to get his mind off the situation.

"Oh I know, Lord Felix, I've spent most of my twenty and one years growing up with that writing." The moment she saw the sealed on the paper as it lay on the floor, she somehow instinctively knew that it was a legitimate and official order.

"Then why did you-"

"Because a _DOTHRAKI_ is in our city walls. No barbarian has ever crossed the Narrow Sea, the only reason why we do not fear any attack from them. But now one has. The previous Hand died before he can conduct whatever business he had with them, and he's not around to ask what that was."

The very reason people fear the blood riders now looms over the room.

"How then do we proceed with this situation?" the lord commander asks, scruffing his beard in worry.

"Might I suggest we ask the person involved." Aldous speaks up.

"Forgive me, Grand Maester Aldous, but you've seen how wild and untamed she is. We do not know her. She cannot be trusted to not cause a problem inside these walls, not to mention the communication barrier, we'd have more luck interrogating a wolf." Rachel answers with her impecable contolled voice.

A small smile quirks on his leathery face, "Ah, too true, my dear, I do not presume to know or trust her, but I do know Ethan, I trust Ethan. And if even if this recent situation seems dangerous and would no doubt cause quite a reaction, I'd like to believe that he did it for one hell of a reason worth fighting for. After all..." He holds Rachel's gaze, slowly speaking to make sure that every word he says will be heard and sink in for everybody in the room. "...he did the same thing for you, my Lady, when he fought for you to be the Master of Coin." There is a murmur of agreement, and even Rachel cannot discredit his logic. "And I do believe we can cross that language barrier."

Her brow slowly rises, while the Lord Commander Gavin visibly reacts.

"You cannot mean Princess Cosima?"

"It is a stroke of luck that she has a rudimentary Dothraki tongue. We can put that to good use and for our best advantage." Aldous calmly explains.

"She is the heir of Dorne." Gavin disbelivingly argues. "If anything happens to her while she is around such an unpredictable and dangerous person, her father will bring all of Dorne marching into the gates."

"No, Grand Maester Aldous is right." Rachel is suddenly agreeable, and Felix suspects it is the prospect of Cosima near danger and a chance to get even that is changing her mind. "We have no other translator to summon on such short notice. And if her safety is your concern, Lord Commander," she speaks directly to him before he can say another protest, "you can have one of your Kingsguard protect her at the same time watch the savage to make sure she is well behaved."

"Yes, my Lady," he finally conceeds, not really having another choice. "I will let Ser Paul know immediately." he moves to stand, but stops

"No."

"My Lady?"

"Send for Lady, Ser? Whatever it is you call her, Selmy."

"My Lady, not that I am questioning your decision, but Ser Paul has been longer in the Kingsguard and has a physical advantage."

"Ser Paul also strikes as a menace to her, keeping her agitated and on her toes, making it harder to extract the information we need. Elizabeth is the first person she allowed to have any sort of interaction with her. They have already unwittingly established a sense of trust with each other. If she was able to maim a previous kingsguard, I'm sure she can hold up well against an unarmoured female. Sometimes, it is not all about strength, Lord Commander."

It promptly shuts him up, and it is moments like these that prove just how efficient and dangerous Rachel Lannister in handling situations, making her almost irreplaceable in the kingdom.

_That, or because if things get ugly, the princess has a higher chance of being hurt if it's Beth on the job, _Felix muses. _With Lady Perfect Psycho, you don't really know. Gods, I swear she's even worse than Allison, and that's saying something, except Allison has a heart while this one is just pure terror._

"All right then, Lady Elizabeth will be satisfactory for the job. I shall inform her."

"I'd like to accompany her when she goes to the holding cell, if you'll allow it." Felix chimes in.

They collectively turn to look at him with a questioning gaze, Rachel's eyes imperceptibly squinting.

"Whatever for, Lord Felix" she drolls.

And his lips stretch from both sides, a smile that is stiff and does not really look like how a smile is supposed to be.

"Being from Essos myself, I'd love to see a Dothraki up close."

* * *

"Nice save there Selmy. Things could've really gotten ugly."

"Are you going soft on me dipshit?" She playfully punches his shoulder, her gauntlet clanking with his armor. "Nah, it was Princess Cosima who did the real save. I wasn't even thinking when I stepped out, I sort of did it out of instinct." Her ears jar as she feels his palm connecting with the back of her helmet.

"What the hell Art?"

"I thought you were doing the right thing, now I know you did something stupid."

"Hey, it was the right thing. It worked." she protests, removing her helmet to comfort her ears.

"It worked, but you have to think things through next time, because it can mean the difference of not having a next time."

She scoffs. "I don't need you hovering over me."

"I am looking out for you. Someone has to."

She is about to snipe at him when he suddenly goes stiff, standing to attention at someone calling her name.

"Lady Selmy."

She turns, mimicking Art's posture.

"Lord Commander." They both greet in stiff notes, but he waves it away, coming to stand in front of Beth. "Walk with me." and he starts walking, expecting her to follow.

She glances at Art, who widens his eyes at her, a silent push to go after their superior.

She falls into step with him, wondering what this is about, when he slows to a stop along a hallway, and she does the same.

"You are to keep the Dothraki in line as you see fit while guarding Princess Cosima as she does the interrogation."

It takes a moment for her to process everything he just said; when she finally understands, she opens her mouth to protest.

"Ser Gavin, I'm a Kingsguard, not a babysitter, my duty is to protect the king."

"And I am your Lord Commander. That's an order."

It takes all of her to stop herself from saying something out of anger and speak calmly as much as she can, but even a fool would be able to pick up the strain in her voice.

"I know I'm not a man, but I am as capable as they are in being a Kingsguard."

He sighs. "This is not about that. Lady Rachel asked for you specifically, her explanation was too long and complicated but it has something to do about getting information out of the Dothraki easier."

Beth is trying to understand what he means, but knowing Rachel, she's sure it's more of a tactic to get what she wants, but it still does not quell the resentment in her.

"Look at it this way." Gavin tries again. "you are guarding both the Dornish heir, and the King's life under your shield, because you are in direct contact with the possible threat the Dothraki can bring. You are Kingsguard, Lady Selmy, I don't question that, not anymore. I fought beside your father during the rebellion, I respected and admired him...I still do...you were born to be in the Kingsguard, regardless of your sex. "

She doesn't really know what to say to that, overcome with emotion and awkwardness from his words.

"I...thank you, Lord Commander."

At the mention of his title, his tough and gruff mask is back, barking at her.

"I trust you still have her weapons with you." She nods.

"Good. Go find Lord Felix and princess Cosima. You're gonna go face what I'm sure is a very pissed off person. I know I would be if I were her, and you'll need all the help you can get in calming her down." without another word, he turns back and walks away, not seeing the small smile on her lips as she watches the swaying of his cape.

* * *

Sarah is still pacing, her anger not waning, if anything else, it just flamed higher the longer she stayed confined. The rushes on the floor now laying limp and flat on the countless times they've been trampled on, the meager furniture all in splinters. There is nothing left for her to break, and she ruefully eyes the wooden beam in the center of the room. She thinks about it for a second, before her anger promptly tosses her contemplation out of the small square that passes as a window and she charges at it, kicking it, hearing the satisfying trembling of the wood and ignoring the rebounding pain on her knee and hip.

"I don't think even that poor wooden pillar stands a chance against you." she whips her head around at the sound of a male voice, not having noticed that she had an audience watching her through the door's bars. The man nods to the side at what she presumes is the guard, and steps inside with two familiar faces behind him. She finds herself having to look up, for he is tall and lanky, clothed in glaringly colorful robes and curiously staring at her.

"**Good news. You're out."** A chirpy voice makes Sarah look around him to see a beaming Cosima, a stoic Beth beside her. Sarah's eyes are immediately drawn towards the dagger and curved blade held by the latter. Felix notices her downward gaze.

"Ah, yes, I believe you'd want them back. Lady Beth, if you please." he holds his hand out.

"**Your weapons." **Cosima explains to her, unaware that it is unnecesary.

Beth hesitates, fearing for his safety, which he notices.

"It's quite alright." he says with a smile.

The arakh is placed on his palm, and he turns to present it, leather bound arms wasting no time in reaching out to take it, making Beth grip her sword instinctually, Sarah noticing the reaction. Slowly and deliberately, she fingers the edge of the blade, then at the same pace, sets it at her hip, causing Beth to be on edge that whole time and trying not to lose it at the vengeful smirk she can see on the dothraki.

She thrusts the dagger's hilt towards Felix, glaring balefully.

Felix takes it in both hands, then grips the hilt, clearly not about to give it back yet. Kohl smudged eyes snap up, half in warning and half in question. He had his back towards Cosima and Beth, covering the whole incident. He calmly meets her burning gaze, then he maneuvers the knife, turning it around, so the hilt is in his palm while the blade sits on his wrist and arm. His eyes glance down to look at it, prompting Sarah to do the same, then with his other hand, he draws back the sleeve under the knife all the way to his elbows, revealing straight line of raised skin from the inside of his arm down to the side of his palm. Her eyes go wide in recognition, and he smiles, watching her as she lays her fingers over the scar, then the hilt, and he drops his arm, years of honed reflexes causing her to grip it before it falls.

He turns to the two women behind him.

"Princess, I think I'll leave the explaining to you." he says, stepping out of the cell. He can vaguely hear Cosima stumbling with her dothraki grammar as she tries to translate the instructions he relayed to her.

_If she's who I know she is, she understood every word that she heard._

"**I'm sorry for...this."** Cosima gestures at the room, not wanting to call it for what it is, which is basically holding her as a prisoner. Beth's eyes sweep across the room, noting its state of destruction and the well worn pattern on the floor where Sarah has been pacing. She leans her head towards her translator. "Don't tell me she's been walking and destroying things non stop."

"Uh." It's Cosima's turn to truly look at the room, then at Sarah, who gives an impatient shrug as if to say 'it was the only thing I could do. Get on with it.'

"I think it would be better if we take her out of here first." She whispers back to Beth who gives a small nod.

The princess clears her throat, then smiles. **"How about we discuss things someplace else that doesn't have walls." ** If Sarah had ears, they would have perked up, and she tries to hide her pleasure at getting out of confinement, making a move to head to the door, but is blocked by golden armour. She growls menacingly at Beth who was half a head taller than her.

"Easy there. Before we leave this room, I want you to understand some things here. Firstly, if you harm even just a hair from the princess' braids, I will cut off your hands. Can you make sure she understands that, Princess Cosima?"

Cosima doesn't know whether to be amused or horrified. "Oh, sure, uhm.. **she will accompany us wherever we go, to ensure that we will not be harmed or disturbed.**"

"Second, if you pose any threat to the King, I will not hesitate to cut your head off."

"**She is a very brave protector because she's one of the people who personally protects the king."**

"Third, if she does not cooperate and piss Lady Rachel off, I will personally strangle whatever it is she wants out of your throat."

"**She hopes everything will work out fine with you and Rachel and that you both work through this."**

"And lastly, **I'm Beth, **and welcome to King's Landing, Sarah."

* * *

The first interaction between the Hand and their guest was disastrous, the two of them clashing the instant they were put in the same room. So Rachel instructs them instead to escort Sarah to one of the rooms in Maegor's Holdfast to calm the both of them down, which she adamantly refused.

**"I would rather sleep in my tent, on the ground. I do not need your petty refineries." **(Cosima decided to tone it down with "she prefers to sleep in her tent")then she actually spat on the floor before turning around to walk away, not even waiting for a reaction from Rachel.

That was almost a week ago, and now Cosima was flipping a map around, sure that she was lost. The dim light wasn't helping her either, but she knows she is near, because she just heard Scott and the other Maesters collectively leaving, done for the day. It took more convincing for Scott to finally reveal the times that the Grand Maester's testing rooms would be empty. However, how she ended up to be in one of the underground passageways leading to the Grand Maester's study was one of the hardest she'd ever had to convince someone. She asked Felix to procure for her a map of the underground passages in the Red Keep, offering free flowing wine to all his brothels for two weeks, which he quickly maneuvered into a 2 month long supply.

"But you own half the brothels here. It's too much. The stores for next year will be depleted."

"What you're asking is also rather hard and dangerous to procure, that I'm not asking what you plan to do with it is a huge added bonus. And I will not settle for two weeks." She finally relented to one month, feeling the loss of her best wine, and hopes that it is worth it. She flips the map again, wondering how her brain can understand higher complexities but has the lowest ability in her sense of direction, wondering whether to go left or right at a fork underground.

Her frustration gets to her and she punches the wall, inspired by Sarah, and immediately regrets when white hot pain shoots down her arm.

"Holy crrrooouch. Okay, Cosima, you have your brains, not Sarah's or Beth's wall immune knuckles. Think!"

But she cannot think, not with her knuckles throbbing. "This is hopeless." she huffs, leaning on the wall, closing her eyes and trying not to cry. The silence and solitude of being underground calms her down, and then she feels it, a small pulling in her gut. She slowly opens her eyes, deciding to trust her instincts and not her head for once, choosing the pathway on the left.

She keeps walking, until she comes across a flight of stairs, and almost skips in joy ascending them, stopping at the closed door. One last look at the map confirms that she is in the right spot, and she crams it in her chest, hoping and praying that the other side is empty. She braces both hands, and gives a slow push, opening the door a little, waiting for a moment for any reaction, then slowly pokes her head out.

"Yes!" the Grand Maester's study is empty, and she sees that the door she opened isn't a door, but is a bookshelf. She steps out, awed at the volumes of books that are only seen by a handful of people, arcane and dangerous knowledge.

She shakes her head, reminder herself as to why she snuck in, and starts scanning the spines and titles. There are a lot of interesting titles, ones she would like to look at, but resists and keeps on scanning, pulling the chair to hoist her up so she can see the upper shelves. Her excitement wanes, thinking that maybe Scott has his information wrong, because she cannot find it. She is sure she has not skipped a book, she has checked and rechecked five times already, and has not come across it yet. Upon closer inspection, she notices that the books on the top shelf had more spaces between them.

_One more book could fit in here...Which could only mean one thing, someone else took it._

"I believe you are looking for this.

* * *

AN: Im sorry, but I keep visualizing Commander Lexa as a dothraki... oh, wrong show.


	14. Lioness and Lefthands

Short chapter, because I wanted to separate the next one from this. Apologies. Also, unedited.

* * *

After that first disastrous attempt at communication which ended with dothraki spit on the floor, Rachel wasted no time in entering the Tower of the Hand to her father's study, or more appropriately, barging into her study, now that she's officially the Hand. The door bears the brunt of her ire as she slams it open with as much force as she could, now that there are no eyes upon her.

"Bloody barbarian...disgusting uneducated savage" she mutters, scattering the still disorganized piles of paper, looking for anything that might help explain their current situation. The documents are important, yes, being treaties, transactions, laws and such which piece the kingdoms together, but Rachel finds not a word or anything in connection to the Dothraki.

Her frustration finally comes to a breaking point, sending the papers and various objects, anything really, within close range to her, flying and crashing into each other.

"Why!" an inkwell sails towards the wall, scattering ink upon impact.

"Why did yo have to leave me with this!?" her arms clear out the contents of the table, not caring if the sleeves of her immaculate dress get nicked, scratched, and stained.

"Why do you have to keep on piling problem after problem, without leaving a bloody clue?!" The various glass devices which Rachel never really knew what they were for but was inventeed by her father, shatter on impact with the glass window.

"Why did you have to leave..." her voice finally sputters out, low and hoarse, as she braces both hands on the table, her chest heaving in a mixture of anger, disappointment, and just a hint of sadness that she refuses to acknowledge. Her eyesight lands on the familiar corner of the table on the stone floors.

_Of course._

Flames of excitement begin to consume her as she gives the table a shove, kneeling and prying the stone compartment open. She lays the stone cover on the ground, then wastes no time digging everything out of the rectangular hole. Those flames are slowly extinguished as she reads everything, every piece of letter, and finds that they are exactly that, letters.

_No, nonono, there must be something_, she puts her hand back in, sweeping back and forth for anything she may have missed, but her fingers only encounter cold smooth stone. There is nothing else, just ordinary scrolls and letters without names penned on them. Her final hope of finding anything to shed light on matters is quickly replaced by the familiar tang of anger. She wants to do more damage, wants to break every stone in the study in search of a clue, wants to punch the walls herself, but logic prevails,_ bruised knuckles are beneath me,_ and she carefully returns them in their hiding place, shoving the cover not as gently back into place.

She stands up, feeling her insides burn. Rachel is furious, furious at the dothraki warrior with ther uncvilized ways and stubborness to not cooperate, furious that the translator between them had to be someone she always seemed to clash heads with, furious at her father, for leaving so many mysteries behind, responsibilities which she now has to figure out.

_Searching in the dark, without even any idea on what I'm supposed to be looking for._

Rachel is furious, yes; frustrated, beyond belief; but beside those, also lies determination, because she is also Rachel Lannister, and Rachel Lannister always gets what she wants, even if she has to burn everything and everyone to get the answer in that darkness she's searching in.

* * *

Allison follows the mad trudging of red and gold out of the doors once she hears from Felix everything that happened during their first attempt at questioning their guest. She didn't believe it at first, until she saw the still bubbling saliva, making a face at such display of everything she was taught on how not to behave in public. Cosima and Beth have followed the dothraki out , hurrying to catch up to her and hopefully, to stop anymore outbursts and socially unacceptable behavior. Allison makes a wide berth from the tiny puddle of spit on the floor, taking extra care to not come at least fifteen paces near it.

She asks Felix where Rachel might have stomped off to, and goes after her. She is ascending the stairs when she hears the first violent crash, and she hurries her steps. She finds two knights at the door, secretly trying not to look at each other in confusion. "You can go stand guard at the foot of the stairs," she says a little breathlessly.

"Pardon me, my Lady, but you are in no position to order us."

Allison bristles at this, straightening her posture, bringing her chin up, and glaring in her signature condescending look that immediately cowers the two men.

"You will come with me, and you will stand guard at the foot of the stairs," she repeats, eyeing them in a manic way. From inside, another crash explodes, an angry voice accompanying the sound of glass breaking "Why do you have to keep on piling problem after problem, without leaving a bloody clue?!"

Allison smiles sweetly at them, but her eyes remain wide and a little crazed. "And trust me, you do not want to be where you are right now when she comes out of that door." It's what finally gets them moving, and with a bow and a "my Lady" they march down the stairs, trying their best to not look like they are hurrying and running for their lives.

More crashes and shouting come out muffled from the other side, and Allison stares at the door, as though trying to see what's happening behind it. With a sigh of sympathy, she turns on her heel and follows the knights down, deciding to wait half an hour before attempting to knock. She doesn't really like Rachel, not that much, respect, yes, but as a person, even she has to say that Rachel is absolutely ruthless. She is perhaps closer to Rachel than other people, but apart from that day Rachel's tears stained her dress, they are still far from being friends. She doesn't really approve of everything her almost friend does, but being crushed under the self imposed expectation due to a parent is something she can definitely understand.

While she waits or the appropriate amount of time to pass, she goes back to Felix, finding him still where she left him, conversing with a servant, but immediately dismisses them once he sees her.

"What was that about?" Allison asks, turning her head to look at the girl who was walking away, head bowed low.

"I asked her to help our guest in any way she asks for."

"You mean spy on her?"

"My dear, of course not" he cocks his brow. "Just to provide her with eveything and anything she might need." The insinuation is not lost even on Allison.

"You are putting her in danger. What if she gets hurt." she hisses her disapproval.

"I believe that's what the designated Kingsguard is for, not only to protect princess Cosima, but to subdue any unfortunate events that may occur."

"Who is it?"

"The newest addition, who else."

"What?! Beth?" a familiar sensation tugs at her chest, similar to what she felt when Beth stepped out of their locked stance and lowered her sword to approach an armed and dangerous dothraki who looked like she would not hesitate to slaughter anyone who made the first step.

Felix looks at her, trying to put a finger to her reaction. "She is very capable." he simply says.

"Oh, no, I mean, yes," Allison catches herself, sliding back to her usual demeanor. "I know she is, but she's...who taught her how to fight?" Felix knows she was about to say something else, but lets it go for the time being.

"I heard she learned mostly from watching other knights training, and she is a Slemy after all, but she owes a lot to Ser Paul."

Her brows scrunch in confusion."Ser Paul?"

"Yes. I don't know if you've ever noticed, but Beth is a left hand fighter."

_Of course I noticed that. _"And?" she waits for the explanation.

"So is Ser Paul." _Oh, that I didn't notice._

"If I am not mistaken, they are one of the rare knights who opted to continue fighting left handed. Even though the previous Lord Commander stopped the forceful training of left handed boys to use their right hands, allowing them to use whichever hand they wished, almost all opted for the right since almost all knights are right handed, and it is difficult to copy their movements when everything from your stance is flipped to the other side."

"How long has he been teaching her?"

"About the same time that he became a squire." Her eyes betray her surprise. _That long?_

"He has been passing on to her eveything that he learned."

"Did she have to?" she asks in a small voice.

"You know Ser Paul is one of the best fighters, even amongst the Kingsguard. If I were her, I'd also go to the same person...and it doesn't hurt that how he looks naked is just as effective in making ladies swoon when he has his armor." He feels a jab at his shoulder, internally laughing at Allison's expression.

"And what did she give him in exchange?"

"Nothing. He willingly did it. But there are some whispers that say they are doing more than crossing swords, they were crossing tong-"

She coughs just in time "Yes, I get the idea."

"He genuinely cares for her, and what they had in the past is, well, I suppose it stays in the past."

He catches her with an unreadable expression. "And what is your fascination with it anyway?" he fishes.

"Oh, I...just wanted to make sure that the person guarding the princess is well trained enough for it." Even to her own ears, it all sounded like bullshit, but fortunately, she is spared from having to endure Felix's knowing look nor answer questions she doesn't want to think about when said princess appears on the doorway.

"Princess Cosima!" she greets, a little too cheerfully, that even Cosima slows down in trepidition upon seeing her overeager I-would-like-to-go-scrub-every-inch-of-this-castle face.

"Uh, hi, Allison," she gives an awkward wave, then immediately turns to the Master of Whisperers "Lord Felix."

"Princess." he bows.

"I would like to seek your...advice in a certain matter." she says, carefully choosing her words. Felix quickly picks up on this.

"I will do my best to help."

"Trust me, you're the exact kind of help I need. It involves a certain piece of parchment...about wine." she quickly lies upon seeing Allison's questioning look.

"Ah, well then, if it's about wine then I leave you two to discuss it." she says, remembering Rachel, and that she should go check up on her.

On her way out, she can hear the words "wine", "exchange", and "tunnels."

_Tunnels? Whatever would Cosima need tunnels for?_ Her thoughts are diverted once she reaches the stairs going up the Tower of the Hand, and lets herself in the main room, but stops when she reaches the door to the study. There is silence on the other side, which is a good sign, she supposes, but with Rachel, almost nothing is a good sign after a rampage like that, so Allison timidly knocks on the wooden door, before bravely opening it, not waiting for an answer.

The place is an absolute mess, looking like someone was murdered in there, which isn't really beyond the realms of possibility considering that it's Rachel, who she saw is standing in the midst of the chaos she created, calm as a statue.

"I needed to redecorate this dreary place." the blonde speaks up, not even bothering to look at her. "So I decided to help out with the demolition."

"What would you like to be done? " Allison asks, not knowing what else to say so she goes along with the thread of conversation. For a moment, the blonde says nothing, just standing still, looking absolutely calm and absolutely eerie.

"Glass." Her green eyes alone move, from one side of the wall to the other.

"I'm sorry, glass?" the russet haired woman repeats, not quite understanding.

"Yes, glass." Rachel finally turns to face her, nothing but business in her tone. "I will have these brick walls replaced with glass." She casually steps over the mess on the floor like it wasn't there. "I will have the best craftsman from Myr summoned. Come, Lady Allison, we are still to discuss the new trading arrangements from your Riverrun and High Garden." and just like that, she disappears at the doorway, leaving Allison to shake the confusion off and follow her when she does.

_What, in the name of the Seven, was that? _She gives up, deciding to catch up to Rachel instead, and talk about something that won't make her head hurt.

* * *

That had been three days ago already, and a much calmer Rachel is once again standing in her soon to be renovated study, having sent for the best glass and metal craftsmen all the way from Myr. She decided to take a step back from her explosive emotions, and only came back when she deemed herself calm enough to face it again. The setting sun casts a yellow orange glow but doesn't quite reach the corners. _Yes, glass it is._

She reopens the stone compartment, placing the cover on the floor, then stops short. She didn't see it before, because she always laid the cover face down, but now that she is holding it face up, she can see that it has also been hollowed out, but more important than that, there is a piece of paper in it. She carefully pries it off, spreading the paper open.

_My Little Lioness_

That's it. That's all that is written on it, no matter how many times she flips it over. It's what her father used to call her, but he stopped calling her that when she reached her twelfth nameday. She can feel the familiar pang of disappointment and frustration yet again, but then her heart starts accelerating, not from the anger, but from finally feeling like she is going somewhere...something almost like hope.

_My Little Lioness_

She also remembers the first time he called her that, when she was only three years old, and wandered in his study in Casterly Rock, looking for him.

"_Curious little cub, aren't you?" He sits her on his lap, and giggles when he taps her nose. "No, a little lioness. My little lioness."_

She stands up on shaky legs, then orders one of the guards to call for someone, after putting everything back in its place. She heads for the closet, unbuckling her thin gold belt and shedding her dress while she does, leaving her in her undergarments. Eyeing the array of clothes, she chooses her least incoscpicuous dress, which is an almost impossible decision to make since all her dresses are made from the finest materials and always in the latest fashion. Still, she supposes that the softer, thinner, and simplest dress( for her, at least) would do, and as an afterthought, she grabs her father's darkest cloak, thanking the gods that she has yet to remove his clothes.

There is a hurried knock on the door, and a young lad comes stumbling in, but she barely acknowledges his presence, barking off orders before he even manages to catch his breath.

"Martin, go to the stables, find the master in charge of the family's personal carriage, and tell him to prepare it, but to remove all Lannister markings on it. and tell him to find a driver who can be trusted and to ready the fastest horses in the stables."

He was still staring at her wide eyed, trying to remember everything she just said.

"Go!"

He scurries off, almost tripping himself. Rachel secures the tie on the cloak, feeling wired for the first time ever since her father's death, like a hound who caught the scent of blood and is ruthlessly pursuing it.

Everything is done swiftly and in secrecy, and within the hour, the clip clop of horses can be heard as they pull the carriage away and into the night,

But of course, there is one person who deals with all manners of secrecy, and the only notable person to know of tonights activities. Felix is standing on the high walls above his quarters, eyes following the solitary carriage going down Shadowblack Lane until it blends into the darkness, his sight going over the horizon, over what he surmises is the theoretical destination. His usual mocking/happy face is gone, replaced with a serious expression, his brows drawn together,

_What are you hurrying to see in Casterly Rock, Rachel Lannister?_

He turns at the sound of boots scuffing, eyes flitting to the young Lannister lad, a distant cousin of the main family, coming back from the postern, an inconspicuous gate or doorway for those who wish to come or go in secret. _Martin__, now, was it? Hmm, perhaps he can be an immense help in answering my question._

* * *

AN: Everybody's pulling pranks and shouting April Fool's and I'm here sitting like Happy Birthday Elizabeth Childs, because yes, that's how attached I am to a character who only appears for less than three minutes and dies in the first episode. FML. To me, she's a leftie, because the first thing I noticed (I dont know why) when she was putting her clothes down at the station was her watch is worn on her right hand. …...Still waiting for that Beth episode to happen.

I'm so sorry for automatically assuming that people who read this are also fans of Game of Thrones, so to the reader who requested a reference for the titles and lands and all those who don't read/watch game of thrones, I hope this helps:

The King, addressed as "your grace" or, protector of the realms, or lord of the seven kingdoms.

The Hand, is the second highest position of authority, an advisor and has the power to make decisions on behalf of the king, the chief planner on things, and is usually the real power behind an inept king, the person mainly responsible for holding the kingdoms together.

The Small Council is an advising body anointed by the King, sort of like a political cabinet. They are the ones who discuss and handle matters concerning the realm. The Hand is the primary advisor, and can preside over a meeting when the King is absent.

The Master of Coin is the treasurer and takes care of the City's finances.

The Master of Whisperers is the spy/intelligence operative, gathering secrets and information even beyond Westeros.

The Master of Laws makes sure that the laws are enforced, sort of like the chief justice and go to person in all things legal.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard or Whitecloaks(knights specifically chosen to guard to king and the royal family) is the military expert, in things concerning security or warfare.

The Master of Ships, commanding the royal Navy and adviser on sea battles.

The Grand Maester is like the highest appointment given to a maester,who are appointed to different regions, because he is appointed to the Capitl, the chief scholar in the order of scholars, and has the most number of chains, each chain representing a specific field mastered. Maesters are the ones who are educated in the different fields, like medicine, ravenry, history, poisons, astronomy, etc.

The houses introduced so far:

House Baratheon, ruling King's Landing

House Lannister, ruling the Westerlands, rich in natural resources esp metals, making the Lannisters the richest and essentially most powerful in the kingdoms.

House Martell, ruling Dorne

House Tully, ruling the Riverlands, controlling the passagewway to the north and having fertile lands.

House Tyrell, ruling Highgarden,a very fertile land very favourable for agriculture and helps supply food for the less fertile lands, making them the second richest family.

I'm gonna introduce more, as the story progresses, but if you have more requests or questions, fire away, I'll do my best, because the world created by George R.R. Martin is enormous and intricate.

Thank you for reading.


	15. Partners and Paintings

Here it is, the chapter that will bump the rating up to M. If you're a tad uncomfortable about it, it's ok to run in the other direction...then come back with popcorn, because oh sweet summer child, I will teach you that two women combusting the room with their physical chemistry is glorious, I will corrupt your mind in the purest most beautiful way possible. OK? OK. Go grab your popcorn. It's not that...corrupting...yet.

Oh, and Gold cloaks are different from the White cloaks. Gold cloaks are the Cuty watch. White cloaks are the Kingsguard.

again, bolded words are spoken in dothraki

* * *

"I believe you are looking for this?"

The unexpected voice makes Cosima turn so fast she almost topples over, and she can feel her heart slide all the way down to her stomach in fright. Actually, it is not that there is a person that causes the reaction, but rather who that person is.

_Of all the people...You have got to be kidding me._ There, leaning with her shoulder on the door's arch, is none other than Delphine of Lys, a thick leather bound book held up on her hand. Cosima is at a loss for what to say, so she blurts out the first thought that comes to mind.

"What are you doing here?" It doesn't help that her clothes, made from loose and soft material, is draped over her body in the Lysene style, which is to say, flowing in an absolutely enticing manner. Her shoulders are bare, exposing the creamy complexion underneath, and Cosima is not sure if it's the light, but she appears to be glowing. It doesn't help that there is a playful smile on her lips, to which brown eyes kept straying to. It doesn't help that the sunlight streaming through windows seem to lend themselves to her, casting an otherworldy aura on an already impossibly otherworldy hair. It doesn't help the dryness in Cosima's throat, stilling of her usual quicksilver thoughts. Nope, it doesn't help at all.

The soft smile quirks up in amusement. "I'm supposed to be the one asking that question, don't you think, Cosima?"

"Princess. Princess Cosima." she snaps, and immediately regrets it. She does not understand why she said it, because she never liked her title, doesn't like the formality of it. She's always been the type of person to be open and informal with people and has never, not once, advised its usage, until now that is.

There is a hint of surprise on the blonde's face, replaced by a small upturn of her lips. "Apologies. I thought you wouldn't prefer it."

_I don't. Wait, how did she know?_ Her mind might be running at high speed, but her mouth remains closed, and Cosima continues to stare, not knowing what to say, until the Lysene eventually sighs.

"To answer your question as to why I am here, I work here."

"Work here? You mean _under_ the Grand Maester. Is that how you can just come and go in his private quarters and private study?" The insinuation isn't lost, and Delphine stiffly straightens from leaning, all signs of friendliness and teasing lost, to be replaced by terseness, making Cosima automatically take a step back , her back hitting the wall.

Even Cosima knows that she went too far, not knowing the underlying sting of her words, but she can see its effect by the subtle clenching of a pale jaw, and the stony expression on hazel eyes, with hints of hurting that she will never truly know the depths of. _Why did I say that?_

"I..I'm sorry, I didn't-" she doesnt get to finish whatever excuse her brilliant mind was trying to come up with ,because long legs are striding forward towards her.

Cosima can feel the wall behind her, a physical reminder that she has nowhere else to go escape and retreat to, not when there's a blonde enchantress towering over her, gazing at her with such intensity that she feels her whole body heating up, gathering in her belly.

_Holy... she is fucking sex incarnate_, she wails mentally, pushing the suffocating heat flooding her even though there is a foot of space between them.

"If you truly want to know, then no." Somehow, this was an enormous relief for Cosima, until she reminds herself that it is none of her bussiness, but it's too late, because her sense of relief is very noticeable, making Delphine smile.

"My knowledge is something they need. Only I can determine the presence of the Tears of Lys, so no, I don't really work for the grand maester, but I am granted permission to his library, for research purposes. You, however..." she seems to have spotted something, her eyes training down towards the open vee of Cosima's neck. The way her eyes travelled down and the small smirk when her eyes stop at her chest is making the princess squirm.

Her mind was screaming no!, nonononono

Her body was sceaming yes, yes, yes, please yes just as hard.

_I can barely hold myself up, and she's just standing there! What more if she were actually touching me...no, wait, I cannot think about her touch-_

Her thoughts were inturrupted when Delphine slides a few inches closer with sinuous predatory grace, and in that moment, the heat in her stomach drops lower, pulsating _Yes, dear gods, YES._

Her mind goes blank when she sees a pale hand reaching up, and for a moment, Cosima doesn't think, she just knows she needed to be touched, closing her eyes, and desperately hoping.

And then feels something being pulled out, the crumpled map she hastily jammed down her front to hide slowly being pulled by Delphine's fingers. Cosima gasps at the sensation of the paper's bumps and creases grazing her breast and her nipple, until it is pulled all the way out, causing electricity to run right into Cosima's core and raise goosebumps all over her body. Delphine is smirking as she holds it up.

"I suppose this answers my question."

She can feel her body crying out, and she knows that the person causing it knows. The Lysene's eyes can see it in her now-probably-more-black-than-brown eyes, to her slightly parted lips tingling to have contact, and when those eyes landed on her heaving chest, the way Delphine gazed caused her nipples to painfully contract, needing more than just the fabric they were straining against. _By the mother, my body can't take this._

And then she feels the book's spine slowly being pressed against her thudding heart.

_Breathe in, breathe out. Don't think about it. Nope, nope, don't think of needing that books pressure in other places, somewhere low-..by the motherfathercronewarrior._ She doesn't get to the end of The Seven, because she can feel the pressure of the book travelling lower, down to the apex of her thighs.

She let the wall take her weight, her legs not strong enough to keep her upright, her hands coming behind her, aiding in her effort to not melt into a puddle by the floor.

_Gods, can it get any worse(better) than this?_

It turns out that she gets to have her answer, because Delphine, never breaking eye contact,reaches behind and takes Cosima's tattooed hand, laying it against the book, then putting hers on top of it, making Cosima's hand the one essentially pressing the book against herself.

The blonde slowly puts her other hand against the wall, and the princess vaguely notes its presence in her peripheral vision, inches from the side of her head. Delhpine leans in, and Cosima automatically stops breathing, until she feels the warm breath against her ear, whispering in a low seductive _accented _voice. "Take it," it almost sounds like a growl, accompanied by more pressure on both their hands against the book.

"Mmhmmn" it came out as an embarassing airy and high pitched half moan half whimper.

She does not even have the capacity to mentally cringe at how aroused she sounds, or that her eyes have fluttered close, because she can acutely feel herself clench, can feel the sufficating heat and electricity flowing between them.

Cosima feels a sudden chill, not quite understanding what happened, blinking against the subtle gust of wind. It takes a moment for her to process the image of the Lysene standing in front of her. That and the footwide space between them.

_She stepped away,_ is her first automatic thought, which is exactly what she needed, because realization finally comes crashing to her. First came embarrassment, her face flushing with heat, then came incredulity. _Did she just.._. Irritation,_ she..she did_. And finally, indignant anger, _how dare she._ The heat from her previous embarassment morphs into fury. No words come out of her mouth, not because she has nothing to say, but because she has so much to say and doesn't know where to start.

The other woman, however, seems unfazed, looking quite amused, the hint of a smirk still staining her lips. _Stop, no, don't look at her lips, I have to think clearly._

"I think I should have a word with Lord Felix, about accidentally misplacing important documents." That momentarily stops Cosima's anger, the weight of being found out making its way to the forefront of her mind. _Right, that. Shit._

"Maybe he should be careful where he places it next time, no?" and then she turns away, sauntering towards the door. "And like I said, if you should ever need help, just come to me." she throws over her shoulder. She opens the door, but doesnt step out just yet.

"And you should also probably go back behind to books, so to speak." she closes the door behind her.

Once the blonde was gone from her sight, she let her boneless legs slide to the floor, her lungs gulping much needed air, the heat below still pulsating, making her very much aware of the warm sticky fluid between her legs, along with the book she came to "borrow" held in her shaking hand.

_Wait, "get back behind the books"? She knows how I got here, that Felix helped. She knows damn well that he didn't 'misplace' it...does that mean she won't tell anyone? But why?_

She has no time to continue her musings, because she hears a sound outside the door, prompting her to scramble and crawl (her legs haven't quite recovered yet) towards the bookshelf, and disappearing behind it just in time before she hears the door open, the sound of chains clanking in the background.

She can feel her thudding heartbeat, but she knows it isn't really because of almost being caught, but because of a certain voice, a certain pair of eyes, a certain shade of paleness, a certain perfectness she has yet to compare to when it comes to hair, a certain foreigner who is slowly making her go crazy.

* * *

Carriage wheels slowly ground to a stop, and not more than a second later, its doors fling open, a gold laced crimson boot stepping out, the dark red cloak billowing against the wind as Rachel strides purposefully towards the postern, one of the hidden entrance doors of Casterly Rock. A solitary guard is shaken from dozing off, wondering who would come barging in the back entrance at such an ungodly hour. He holds out a hand to stop her, then effectively trembles when she whips her hood off, her menacing glare melting right through his armor

"My Lady, I.." she waves his stutters off, gesturing for him to open the door. She doesn't waste time and heads towards the stairs.

More murmers of "my Lady" come from the odd servants who have seen her, surprised at her sudden presence, but she pays them no mind. One voice is succesful in slowing her down.

"My Lady."

"Daniel." she answers cooly. "Less than a minute of my arrival and you're already here. I'm impressed."

"If you would've given word of your arrival, I would've made the necessary arrangements and you'd be more impressed." he says casually.

"There was no time." she resumes walking, and he falls into step beside her.

"Would you like to explain?"

"Why don't you explain how you knew I was here?" she evades.

"It...wasn't me."

She immediately gets it, and stops abruptly, causing Daniel to walk back the few paces he overstepped, coming to stand under Rachel's glare.

"She's supposed to be asleep at this hour." she grits out.

"She can be stubborn...determined." he amends at the raised brow he gets.

Rachel lets out an exhausted sigh, her almost nonstop ride thorugh rougher terrains finally getting to her.

"I'll talk to you later, I have more important things to attend to. In the meantime, have a bath drawn." He decides not to question her, and bows instead "Yes, my Lady." he heads the other direction, knowing that Rachel has her reasons, albeit hidden, are of importance if she decides to pop up unannounced and in a hurry.

* * *

Sarah is outside her tent which she single-handedly put up herself while mentally criticizing the citizens and soldiers who were giving her looks varying from disgust to amusement.

Soft, weak, people. Disgusting, I bet they don't even know how to put up a tent.

A space near the City's godswood was granted to her, thanks to Cosima's efforts after she spat on the floor in refusal to being housed inside Maegor's holdfast.

She sits outside, near the fire she has built hours ago, and for the first time since coming to the Capitol, she allows herself a moment to think, and to process everything that happened so far.

_I was mad in agreeing to that old crone. Everything is confusing here, so many unnecessary things, so many unanswered questions. And the one called Ethan Lannister is dead._

That was something she doesn't really know how to handle. _I came all this way for a dead man, and his replacement, the so called Hand, his daughter, appears as clueless as I am._

All the thinking is making her head swim, and she huffs, reclining on the spread by the fire.

The stars look paler and weaker than she is used to seeing them, but she sees them nonetheless. Her view of the stars is somehow marred by a few trees, and she casts a glance around the area, taking in the dark shadows of trees and plants, and beyond are the guards she knows are watching her, as demanded by the Hand. She feels a sudden stab of homesickness, missing the vast plains, the clear skies, the comforting smell of horses, never really dreaming that she'd ever leave the Dothraki Sea, much less cross the Narrow Sea.

She grunts, feeling silly, and decides to do one of her favorite past times to ground her, so she takes her whetstone out, the sound of it sliding against her blade bringing her imediate comfort.

She grips her weapons with newfound intensity. After losing them, even just momentarily when she handed them over, she vowed to never let go of them again, not while she had arms, because while she is a very skilled hand to hand fighter, she is a better melee fighter, plus the fact that her dagger was her most prized possession, something she's had ever since she can remember. She was no fool, she knows it is no ordinary dagger, because it is the best steel she's ever used, sharper than any blade she's ever held, coveted by her fellow warriors in training. She doesn't sharpen it, unlike her arakh, because it doesn't need constant sharpening. She gazes down at it, the fire reflecting on its blade, and then there is a flurry of motion as she turns, a dull thump sounding off in the distance. Her hand is outstretched, the dagger no longer in her hand.

* * *

Felix makes his way towards to glow of the fire, using his knowledge of the place, effectively evading the various guards posted around the Godswood. _Oh, silly little soldiers, she knows you are there._ Quick and light as a fox, he flits through the trees and their shadows, reminiscent of his thieving days, working his way up the channel of knowledge and whispers.

He hears the clear sound of an arakh being honed to perfection, and he smiles as he steps closer. When he is close enough to observe her, silence has replaced the repetetive sound of the whetstone, and instead, he sees her looking down at her dagger.

_She seems deep in thought. I wonder what she's thi-_

He never gets to the end of his internal question, because the dagger she was staring at intently a moment ago was now embedded against the trunk, an inch away from his right eye. For, a moment, he is terrified, surprised and confused as to what happened. And then he smiles, stepping out of the shadows, presenting himself to her.

"Careful, you could have killed me." he says in a half serious tone. "Valerian steel. you know nothing cuts quite like Valerian steel". H reaches to touch the hilt, attempting to pull it free. It doesn't even budge an inch, and he tries with both hands, pulling with all his might. It doesn't budge. He tries using explosive motion, jerking in sudden force. It still doesn't budge. _By the mother, how deep did she burry this blade?_A bead of sweat trickles down his brow, his arms straining to loosen it up and down. He hears her approach, and she scoffs at his efforts, pushing him aside then effortlessly pulls it out from the tree. _How the hell did she...nevermind._ He just shakes his head.

"**If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." **She wipes the sap that has clung to the metal.

A smile quirks up from the corner of his lips. "Come now, I know you understand me, and everything you've ever heard since coming here, don't you...Sarah." He drops her name slowly, and he notices the way her hands slow down from wiping the blade.

She slowly turns to face him, a serious expression on her face, the khol around her eyes intensifying the silent warning emanating from her. "What to do you want?" her voice is low, and it comes out in the harsh accent of the horse riders.

_I knew it._ Felix almost blows out a sigh of relief.

"The last time you, your blade, and I were together was also quite memorable." he says instead, "except I was cowering behind your back and you were pointing that dagger to the khal, with his whole army of bloodriders behind him."

She betrays no emotion as she continues looking at him. "Surely you remember that day," he prods.

Of course she remembers that day, it was the day she was taken by the dothraki, the day the both of them almost died.

It was in Slaver's Bay, and they were just one of the countless orphans running around trying to escape the slave traders and survive at the same time. Normally, the street children can get away, what with their size and speed, but that day, the khal decided to invade and sack the place, to claim slaves to be sold, and whatever valuables they can find. It was utter chaos. Blood was everywhere, women were mercilessly taken even out on the streets, beside the corpses of the men unfortunate enough to come across a dothraki. Sarah could see one of the bloodriders dragging a screaming and kicking boy who was about her age. She doesn't really know him, but she has seen him once or twice, and she shared her spoils of theft once when the older boys took the bread he stole, and in return, he would share his blanket during the colder nights. They have become partners, in a silent way.

_Don't cry, you'll make it worse._ She was hoping he would stop screaming. Don't show weakness, or they'll kill you. He finally sees her, huddled underneath a fallen tent, and he screams louder.

_Idiot, stop it!_

The terror in his eyes bellows the terror in his screams. The warrior dragging him through his hair has finally had enough, and flings him to the ground, deciding that he isn't worth it.

**"We have no use for a skinny squealing rat.**" he spats out, and draws his arakh, approaching the cowering and sputtering heap of skin and bones on the ground. Felix looks up, sees the curved blade held high by the terrifying dothraki, and knows what it means. He puts his arm up, diving to the side to evade the downward blow. He is not fast enough, and the blade catches him, slicing his arm open.

He screams his lungs out at the pain, the blood flowing fast and hot down his arm. The dothrak seems surprised, but then sneers, striding towards him once more.

**"I will not miss this time."**

Felix knows that this is it, this is the final blow, and he turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, expecting his head to roll away from his body. He hears a roar, but the blow never comes. Instead, he hears a gurgle, then a thud.

He slowly opens his eyes, then turns back to where a terrifying warrior was towering a few seconds ago. He is no longer standing, he is twitching on the ground, holding his throat, glaring incredulously at Felix. No, not me, he isn't looking at me, he's looking at..

It's then that he realizes there was someone else standing directly in front of him, facing the khal and the other bloodriders who have now gathered from the commotion.

_Dagger girl_! He cries in relief, then flinches at the harsh hiss from her, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because she is there, standing in front of him, dagger pointed at the fiercest and most feared warriors of the land, and the only one protecting him.

The sight of the Khal on his horse, a mountain of a man, warpaint and blood smeared on his face, effectively shuts Felix up in fear, and he wonders how the girl in front of him could still stand thus when he is pissing himself on the ground. The Khal surveys the scene, his eyes travelling from the dothraki with an open throat, to the two children a few paces away.

**"You killed one of my bloodriders."** Even his voice is deeply terrifying for Felix. He says it more as a statement than a question, the irrefutable evidence on his feet. He dismounts, his leather boots causing the dust to tremble in the air.

**"You will pay for that."** he says, staring down directly at Sarah. Felix is now absolutely sure that they were both going to die, because they are surrounded by dothraki and it is the Khal himself who will end them, and nobody escapes the Khal. Instead, he is once again surprised, because Sarah is no longer in front of him, but charging towards the biggest man he has ever seen, screaming with her dagger raised high above her head. Nobody could've anticipated such a move, even the Khal is surprised, but he recovers quickly and swats the child away as if she were a fly. Sarah lands on a grunt a few feet away, the side of her jaw beginning to bloom a vicious bruise. She can taste the iron and salt filling her mouth, and she spits it out, coughing and groaning at the pain. She can hear a booming laugh behind her.

**"The little girl thinks she can defeat me with her little toy!**" more laughter from the other riders follow. The heat and the pain is making her dizzy, and she is on her hands and knees, but thanks to the sun's position, she can see the Khal's shadow coming closer, and when she sees the shadow of his arm reaching for her, she lashes out, turning her body and using the momentum to cut whatever somes in contact with the dagger she was still gripping in her hand. She glances up to see him looking at his palm in awe, a deep slice now flowing a steady stream of blood down to the ground. To his credit, he doesn't even flinch, he doesn't even seem to be in pain, he just looks at his palm in awe. And then his face morphs into an expression of anger.

Sarah doesn't know what hit her, she only knows that she is sailing through the air once more, crashing to the ground in a painful manner. And then she feels herself being hoisted by the neck, the air slowly being choked out of her. She tries slashing, but she feels her hand being crushed by a giant fist, stopping her from any attacks she had in mind. She would have screamed, except her there was no way her scream could get out because her airway is squeezed shut. She is dimly aware of the cheerchanting from the riders who were witnessing her execution, but in the haze, she hears someone give a command.

"Enough!" The chanting stops, and Felix turns to see who it is.

There were murmurs of "Khaleesi" all over as they make way for her horse.

**"My love, put her down."** He hesitates, but he does loosen his grip a little, allowing even just a small gulp of much needed air.

**"This child has taken one of my warriors."** There is an echo of agreement from the khalasar, but the khaleesi's voice manages to drown it out with her clear unwavering voice.

**"Then he was not fit to be a warrior if he fell under a child's skill."** One by one, they quiet down, and the Khal smiles at his wife. She is cunning as she is strong, which was one of the reasons he was devotedly in love with her. He allows a small smile to make its way past his lips, pride shining through his eyes. He puts Sarah down, who wastes no time coughing and wheezing, desperately trying to get air back into her lungs, before she passes out from the pain.

"**What do you want to do with her, my love?"**

The khaleesi is staring intently at the girl's hand.

No, Felix realizes, she is staring at what's in her hand.

The dagger. Even the Khal notices, and asks his wife if she would want it.

"**The girl as well." **He stares at her in confusion, but then is distracted by her smile as she dismounts her horse, his wedding gift to her.

"**She is special, my love. She has already proven it today. She is brave, she was able to kill a full grown blood rider, and this"** she lovingly takes his hand, bandaging it, smiling at the slightly miffed expression on his face, **"why, she is one of the few and rare people to ever give you a scar."**

He ponders over this, then gives a nod. **"She will grow to be a fine dothraki." **

**"Yes, she will."**

She sees the still cowering little boy in the corner of her eye.

**"Why don't you go ahead and round up the others, take what can be taken. I shall follow, as soon as I get her on the horse."** The Khal looks down on her, then kisses her on the forehead.

**"You heard your khaleesi, go!"** The sound of thudding horse feet makes the ground tremble as they ride out, following their Khal to finish what they came for.

Siobhan inspects the knife, still wet with her husband's blood, and she feels a prickle at the nape of her neck. She wipes it, then sheaths it at the scabbard tied to the girl's waist. She hoists them both up on the horse. A whimper draws her attention back to the small boy looking at her with fear, then her eyes travel toward his arm. She approaches him, and he tries to scamper away.

"Let me look at it. I can stop the bleeding." He goes very still, his eyes going wide.

"You...speak the common tongue?"

She smiles, and takes out a fresh set of bandage, along with a needle and a thread. He flinches when he sees it, but then he looks over to Sarah, still unconscious on top of the horse, and he decides to swallow his fears down. It doesn't escape Siobhan, and almost laughs. "You are a brave boy." she says, sewing his wound close after washing it. His face is red from the effort of not screaming as the needle sews his skin close. When she is done, she gives him a small bag of gold.

"I'm sorry, I can't take you with me. This is all I can offer you." He watches as she gallops away, joining the rest of the khalasar, the trail of dust becoming smaller and smaller in the horizon.

"So, how is the khaleesi?" Felix asks her. They were seated in front of each other, the fire between them.

"**Dosh Khaleen. She is Dosh Khaleen now."**

His brow quirks up. "Dosh Khaleen. I see." Then after a moment, "you don't have to speak the dothraki tongue, you know."

He notices how she bristles at this. **"I am dothraki, and I will speak dothraki."** Felix doesn't really understand what she said, but he understands the gist of it, so he puts his hands up as a sign of peace.

"I meant no disrespect." He wonders where that girl who risked her life to save him has gone. _She trully is dothraki. Ruthless, harsh, and cold._

"**You did not answer my question,** what do you want?" For the first time, he considers that maybe this was a bad idea. "I was just wondering how you were, I never saw you again after they took you. I...I couldn't forget." He used his network of spies to look for information about the orphan who saved him once he was powerful enough to do so, not being able to find anything since he didn't even know if she was alive, not until someone gave him a special assignment to track someone down that his hopes were renewed. He wasn't sure if it was her, if it was the same person, until he saw her draw that blade in the middle of the throne room, in front of all the gathered nobility.

He clears his throat. "I guess I'll go back now, sooner or later, someone will notice my absence. I'm not the only one with spies in this place." he reasons his way out. _I guess she growing up with the dothraki has really changed her._

He looks at her, expecting her to say something, or to even acknowledge his farewell, but she says nothing, she just keeps staring at the fire. Felix gives up, turning back towards the trees. He is about to blend in with the shadows when he hears her.

"You're still too skinny."

He could hear the slight teasing in her tone, and he stops in his tracks.

"And you still point your weapon at people's ruling kings." he answers in the same tone. He doesn't look back, but he knows that she is smiling.

* * *

Delphine makes her way towards the experimentation room, immediately engaging the Grand Maester in a conversation. _I hope Cosima has already gone back, _she thinks as she watches Aldous enter his private study.

_Maybe I shouldn't have teased her that much. _She didn't know that teasing Cosima was as torturous for her. It took all of her willpower to step away, especially when she heard the princess groan. Delphine is unaware of the smile on her lips.

Even though she distrusts me, it's good to know that her body still recognizes me. She lets this sink in for a while. Is it wrong for me to actually feel good about that? She thinks back on the repetitive heartache she encounters every time she wakes up, because it doesn't matter if it's a good memory or a bad one, because she either wakes up from the pain or from the yearning, either way, it always breaks her heart, because in this world, Cosima is resisting her.

But again and again, Delphine has to tell herself that if their situation was reversed, she wouldn't trust herself either, specially when she DYAD had her hands tied around her back, letting herself be painted a villain just so she can hide her true motives, even if it broke her and Cosima apart, because to her, Cosima's life was her priority.

I hope this world can be more forgiving, she wistfully muses, then she drowns herself in working with the maesters.

* * *

Rachel heads straight to her father's room, to the spot she remembers him calling her his little lioness for the very first time. She stands in front of a painting of her mother, and starts feeling its edges for any space or catch that will open up to the space she knows is behind it. Her fingers encounter a small embossed oddity. She presses on it, and she hears a click, the painting swinging ajar. She opens it, expecting to find answers. There are more papers inside, every one of them seemingly written with gibberish.

He encrypted it. But instead of feeling dread or frustration, she can feel her excitement growing. If it's encrypted, it means it's important. She doesn't mind having to decrypt it, because she now knows for sure that her father was hiding something huge, something bigger than she has originally imagined. The sound of the door opening makes her turn, the pitter patter of small feet increasing into a run a small girl runs towards her, colliding with her leg.

"Mummy! I knew it was you." she snuggles her head at whatever part of Rachel she was currently grasping.

"Kira."

* * *

AN: any question, suggestion, reaction is appreciated. Even if it's just mostly screaming and random words, I'd still love to hear your thoughts, because I get tired listening to mine. Thanks for reading.


	16. Girls and Glasses

AN: I know, it's been quite a while,and this has been sitting open in my laptop for like a month and a half now and this is quite short and I'm sooorryyyy. =. I don't even know if people are still reading, but writing this is kind of my therapy, so I'm writing this for me as much as I'm writing it for the clone club. I'll try getting my shit together and post the next one earlier.

* * *

"Kira." Rachel manages to sigh and groan at the same time, smoothly closing the painting "it is way past your bedtime." this time, she manages an admonishing tone, crouching down on one knee before scooping the five year old up. She walks towards her father's bed, and she almost breaks into a smile at how Kira presses her face on the side of her neck, tightening the hold of her little arms. She sits on the edge, Kira on her lap.

Light blonde curls bounce lightly as Kira draws back. "But mummy,"

Rachel raises a finger, tsking twice. The child seems confused for a moment, then her eyes widen comically as she realizes what she did wrong.

"Mother," Kira tries again in her most adult tone, and Rachel nods approvingly, "I couldn't sleep." her lips hang down in a pout. Rachel immediately bristles.

"Were you scared? Or cold? Is Daniel not lightning enough lamps in your room?"

"Nooo," Kira shakes her head in the slow and cute way that five year olds do, "I wasn't scared, I was just excited to see you." she says with a goofy smile.

_Of course._ Rachel knew that that wasn't what was keeping Kira up, but she couldn't stop herself from asking nonetheless. She has long stopped wondering and doubting the child's intuition, but she also couldn't stop asking her same question regarding the topic.

"How did you know I was coming?"

Kira scrunches her brows in concentration, and Rachel lets herself smile at how adorable it looks.

"I just knew." Kira shrugs, not knowing how to explain otherwise. "I felt it. I knew you were coming." She says it in the calm and nonchalant way that makes Rachel think that her daughter is mature, _more mature than half the population of King's Landing._

_The same answer, just like every other time I asked. _She tucks a wayward curl behind the girl's ear, "of course you did."

"What are you looking for in grandfather's room?" Kira is looking up at her with pure innocence and curiousity.

The Hand has a tight lipped smile on her face. _I've almost forgotten how perceptive you are, and how you manage to cut and asks right through things at breakneck speed._

"Well, I was just visiting his room."

"And looking for something." Kira adds in a helpful tone, as if her mother forgot to provide that information so she's doing it for her. _More intelligent than three quarters of King's Landing too._

"I just miss him." Rachel decides to change tactics, and it works, because Kira's expression falls.

"Me too." Her voice is sad, "I wanted to go see him, but Daniel said no, like how he said no when I told him something bad is going to happen to grandfather, and I really wanted to see him, but Daniel kept saying no." Kira's chin is wobbling, "Mummy, " teary eyes gaze up at green ones, and Rachel doesn't have the heart to correct her, especially not after the next words, "why couldn't I go see grandpa? And where is he now?" For a moment, she considers lying; Kira doesn't know that Ethan was dead, but then those eyes, so baffled and yet calm, were looking straight at her and Rachel feels, knows, that she couldn't lie her way out of this even if she tried...so she decides to tell the truth.

"Kira...grandfather's dead." her voice is calm, controlled, clinical, and she applauds herself for that, but she'll deny and ignore the sharp kick in her chest the moment she said those words. She levels her gaze with Kira's, "do you know what that means?" Kira just gazes back with profound calmness that Rachel hasn't been expecting.

"Yes," the child nods, "it means I'll never see him again." Rachel likes to think that she is used to Kira's odd talent for sensing and calling things out, but the way she stated it, as if it was a simple everyday fact, which, technically, it is, is not something Rachel was expecting from a five year old, even if said five year old is special. _You just keep on surprising me sometimes I forget how old you really are._

"Yes, because he won't be coming back." and her heart breaks a little when she truly realizes, for the first time, that she'll never see her father again. She was too busy, hellbent on looking for answers, and if she were being honest with herself, forcing herself not to think or feel about it, that she hasn't really been able to properly grieve. But now, all the pushing and all the walls vanished.

_All of that, undone in front of this child. _ She feels a small hand on her cheek, wiping the tears she didn't know were leaking from her eyes.

"Don't worry, you were there, and you saw him before you couldn't anymore." Rachel barks a small laugh, because Kira was talking to her like she was one of the flowers or animals that she sometimes saw Kira talking to, but she could also almost hear the _and I wasn't_ that goes with that sentence.

She draws Kira back into her arms, holding her tightly, feeling the raging ball of emotions she normally kept under control slowly ebb on to the small body clinging to her. She holds her until she feels the arms around her neck slacken.

_My curious little girl. _She lets herself have a rare moment of letting her emotions get to her, let her heart expand as she looks down at a slumbering Kira. Her father's words echo to her.

"_**Curious little cub, aren't you?**" _she carefully taps the sleeping girl's nose, the same way her father did all those years ago. "_**No, a little lioness. My little lioness.**"_

It connects to another memory, something her father said the first time she saw Kira.

"_**You will love her like I love you. Possibly even more, if that were at all possible**_"

An uncomfortable feeling sits on her chest, and she glances at the painting, suddenly realizing that she has to keep Kira away from all of this.

* * *

_How dare she!_ Cosima was walking as fast as her still wobbly legs could carry her. _That cruel, mischievous, infuriating... _Scott jumps as she barges in her own study near the cellars: the work space that she squeezed out of Rachel Lannister. She is thankful that the currently being remodeled and renovated workplace is directly connected to the tunnels, because she doesn't know if her jelly legs could've taken her any further. _Shady, wicked, sinfully beautiful... _"uhm, hey?" Scott worriedly tracks her haphazard pacing... _illegally gorgeous, evil, perfect madening goddess... _Scott jumps a second time when she forcefully drops the book on the table in front of him.

"Oh, wow, you got it! You actually got the book!" His excitement does a complete turn in the opposite direction, "wait, how _did_ you get it?" he raises his eyes to a still flustered Cosima, and it's on closer look that he notices the ragged breathing, the flushed skin, the shaking hands and shaky steps. It is his first time seeing her angry, and it unsettles him. "Are you all right? I mean, you got the book, so why are you-"

"Because she's infuriatingly frustrating!" she bursts out, leaving him speechless and wide eyed, holding the book up to his chest as if to shield himself. His shock turns into a smile as her words caught up to his brain. "Her? Does that mean you actually asked for her help?" The dagger look she flings at him wipes his smile off, and he decides to hold off on the comments.

When she has calmed down enough that she can talk without shouting, she slows to a stop.

"She gave it to me." she whispers slowly, looking at her hands that were still shaking.

"What was that?" He was looking down at the book in awe, caressing its edges, its spine.

Cosima casts her gaze upon him. "She gave it to me" she says a little louder, and she watches her friend 's awed expression turn to confusion and disbelief.

"Wait, she gave it to you? Like, handed it over?"

She nods, and his mouth is left hanging open in question.

"Delphine of Lys" he doesn't catch Cosima's small flinch at the mention of her name "just _handed_ this book , a very important and special book that only a select few have heard of, much less seen, to you? " he asks incredulously, making her realize as well.

At her slight nod, he lets out a small huff that turns into a whistle. "I, pshhuhwhawow, just, wow, you must have been extra nice to her, or at least enough for her to give it to you. So are you friends now?"

Her scowl returns, and he backtracks as she goes back to pacing. "Oookay, never mind then. You got what you wanted, something you were willing to procure even if it meant being sailed back to Dorne, with her help. It went well, you have it in your hands, so what did you have to lose?"

"My sanity!" she shouts over her shoulder as she walks out, leaving a very bewildered maester behind.

Three days of being constantly on fire on the inside is slowly wearing Cosima out. Three nights of constantly waking up, sweaty and all too wet from her dreams painted with blonde hair and pale skins have finally taken their toll on her. She wasn't joking when she said her sanity was at stake, because at this point, she swears she might just spontaneously combust. At the first light of day, she purposefully strides out of her room, knowing exactly where to go if she is to remain sane.

* * *

Hazel eyes roam over the entrance to one of the most prestigious brothels and the sight reminds her of her last patient in Lys, before the street boy handed her the message sent by the very same man who owns the very same establishment she was standing in front of. She takes a deep breath and steps inside, going unnoticed since she opted wearing her cloak, giving her her much needed privacy. She hasn't realized how much she actually missed wearing it ever since she came to King's Landing, where the people cannot stop looking , gawking, and pointing at her. The capital was too nosy and she can honestly say that it thrives on a web of lies and a pit of snakes. She carefully makes her way towards Felix's office, letting her eyes casually observe the men and women in bed with some of the most prominent people. She mentally commends him for keeping a better environment and care for her employees than the ones she's used to seeing, noting the cleaner and safer environment and the presence of some of the City Watch standing in obscure corners making them almost unnoticeable.

She reaches his doors and considers simply barging in, but thought better of it. Instead, she carefully draws her hood back, and raises a fist to knock on the wooden door.

"Come in." Felix says from the other side. She pushes the doors open, finding Felix naked on a bed, langourously smoking what she knows to be dried leaves from a hallucinogenic plant grown mostly in Slaver's Bay. She raises a brow at the young man she spots hastily putting his pants on, foregoing his top and scrambling out of the room bare chested, keeping his head down.

"See you soon, Colin" he shouts after him.

Delphine gives him a look, which he brushes off. "Delphine of Lys."

"Lord Felix."

He scoffs. "Please, you and I both know I'm not a Lord."

"And yet everyone calls you one anyway"she says with a sarcastic smile on her face. "What am I doing here?"

Felix blows his last puff of smoke, then gets up in all his naked glory, impressed that the blonde doesn't even blink nor show any reaction. "We both know why and I will not insult your intelligence by feigning reasons" he is finally putting his clothes on, to which Delphine cannot unsee him as Felix Dawkins. She gives him a level gaze. "Then the answer is no."

"You haven't even heard my compensation for you."

"It doesn't matter. I am not giving you the drug. You already run a succesful business here."

"And the same cannot be said for the pleasure houses in Lys?"

"I give it to those who need it. Your girls obviously don't." She can admit that much, and he glowers with pride at the compliment.

"Yes, well, a little profit won't hurt. I'm sure I can give you something in return."

She bristles at this. "It wasn't made for profit, we both know the profit won't be little at all. That is the last thing I want from happening." Her jaw is clenched. "And you cannot give me what I want, Fairy." she adds as an afterthought.

Felix raises a knowing brow. "Oh, don't be too sure of th-"

A scream from the other side tears their attention from each other. Felix quickly robes himslef and strides out the door, Delphine quickly following behind him. Other patrons and prostitutes were already coming out of other rooms to see what the commotion is. One of the doors open and a terrified girl comes out, hysterical and crying, newly forming bruises very evident on her face. She stumbles on Felix and her knees give out, forcing him to support both their weight.

"She's dead! Oh my gods, she's dead."

"Shhh. Shh." he coos, "Calm down love. What is it?" She couldn't find the words, so she just lifts a trembling hand and points towards the room she came from. Everybody's gaze turns to where she's pointing. Inside, a man is naked, standing in the middle of the room and looking petrified. Felix recognizes him as one of those who opposed the new selection for Hand of the King. On the bed is another girl, immobile and staring at the ceiling. He stands up, moving to go inside the room, anger coursing through him. A flurry of yellow snaps him out of it, and he wonders what happened, until he sees Delphine already stooping by the bed, her fingers on the girl's neck, and then placing her nose at the opening the mouth to sniff it.

Felix sees her put one hand on top of the other, pressing the heel of her hand on the girl's chest, and then she begins to pump in rythmn.

"When did she stop breathing." she says out loud, her eyes focused on the girl's face. When there is no answer, she lifts her head.

"How long!" she snaps at the naked man still rooted at his spot. This is enough to shake him out of frozenly watching her.

"I...I don't know. Not long. It just happened." he stammers. "She just stopped breathing. I had nothing to do with it."

If her hands weren't trying to revive this girl's life, Delfin knew she would have slapped him. "You had everything to do with it. You gave her something." she says with disdain.

He blinks, clearly surprised as to how she knew, Felix sees it, and it's all the confirmation he needs.

The man, now conscious of the gathering crowd outside the open doors, quickly changes his expression to that of offense. He is about to say "How dare you accuse me" when the dead girl's mouth opens and a quiet gasp comes out. Delfin stops pumping, and rechecks the girl's pulse, then her breathing, noting the barely there rise and fall of the girl's chest.

_It's still too slow, but she's breathing on her own, that's what's important._

While everyone else stand quietly transfixed by the resurrection, Delfin reaches across the body at a cup close to where the girl's hand lay. She sniffs it, then swipes a finger at the inside, collecting the remaining liquid, then brings it to the tip of her tongue.

"You idiot." she scowls at the man, who is clearly shocked at being spoken this way. Before he can even protest, Delphine glowers at him. "You mixed it with alcohol?"

At this, he evidently becomes jumpy. "I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't do-"

"Do not lie. Not to me. You know who I am. You cannot lie about this to a potion master." she says in the same scathing tone.

His mouth flops, like a dumbfounded fish out of water. He finally decides to come clean, but still trying to regain his dignity. "The man who sold it to me assured me it would work. Said it would make female's lust fly to the seven heavens." he huffs, "It was obviously fake, it doesn't wor-"

"It does work. To animals, which is why only breeders use it, and even to animals, it is still mostly experimental." Delphine is looking at him in disgust, her hand on the girl's chest, assessing her breathing "but to humans, it is fatal. Mix it with alcohol and it becomes poison." She looks down at the girl again, worry creasing her brow. _Her breathing's way too slow. _She spots a quill by the table near the bed, and grabs it, mentally listing what she'll need for an antidote. She looks around for paper, but finding none and her time dangerously running low, she tears off a strip of the white bed sheet, ignoring the horrified gasp from Felix and his muttering of "that came all the way from Tyrosh." She writes as fast as she can, then holds her hand out towards Felix, who approaches to scan her short list. He calls for his fastest boy, "get what's on this list, and get them fast."

He then glances down to the curly blonde still bent over her patient, assessing for anything else that can help with the situation. For a moment, his mind thinks of nothing else except how sincerely concerned Delphine is to saving a prostitute, and now understands how and why this woman was able to keep her identity for so long...it's because people owe her their lives and would protect her no matter what. He momentarily kneels beside her. "Save her," he whispers, and she throws him a quiet glance, her eyes softening in understanding that he cannot say it out loud, needing to keep the image of the sassy aloof Master of Whisperers to avoid anyone having any leverage on him if they knew he actually cared.

She grabs the cup, hoping for at least a drop so she can begin calculating her antidote. It is empty, the last drop having been gone the first time she swiped it.

"How much of it did you give her?" she asks the man now trying to casually cover himself up.

"I..I don't know." She tries to contain her impatience, forcing herself to talk in a calm manner.

"Think back, I need to know how much of it you gave her." she tries in that voice she knows will get her anything she wants.

He blinks dreamily for a second, then seems to catch himself. "I'm not sure. All of it. A spoonful maybe?" Her expression turns to alarm and anger. "A spoo...and the wine?" she reaches for the wine flask by the table.

"Eh...a little?" he struggles to remember.

A timid voice catches their attention. "We both had a cup of wine, and then she drank a second cup, and then she started getting dizzy, until she stopped moving." The other girl, almost forgotten in the midst of the confusion, supplies for Delphine, who suddenly notices the now vividly blooming bruises on the girl's neck. Rage bubbles inside her, and she turns to look at the man, fury very evident on her face, causing him to step back a little. "You tried to kill her." It was not a question, and only supported by how guilty he looks. "The moment she screamed, all you thought of was saving yourself, so you strangled her."

She couldn't have been more than two inches taller than him, but at that moment, he felt like she was towering over him, his fear morphing into terror. In the corner of her eye, she sees Felix grind his teeth, then signals for two guards, and takes the man by the elbow, guiding him towards his office. "Come my lord, we shall discuss additional payments for the additional damage this unfortunate circumstance has caused." He signals one of the attendants to start escorting people back into their rooms.

_Focus, Delphine. _She is grateful to Felix, because she's sure if he hadn't done anything she would have caused severe body harm in front of everybody. _Focus on the antidote and the dosage._

The blonde does a mental calculation, but knows it is futile without knowing the alcohol percentage, even just a rough guess of it.

This time, she turns to one of the attendants. "What kind of wine do you serve here?"

His raised brow confirms her fear, "we serve almost all varieties in this establishment."

She is about to ask him to request for the particular batch and particular wine served in this particular room when someone grabs the flask from her hands.

"Cosima?"

* * *

She was behind other people, having heard the scream herself, then tried to hide the moment she saw the curly blonde tresses, watching the scene unfold, watching in fascination and awe as two pale hands join and start pumping on the motionless girl's chest, and she feels her own breath caught in her throat when the smallest of breaths flows back to the girl's lungs. _She did it, she actually brought her back to life. _Cosima has never seen anything like it, finding herself completely enraptured by the foreigner, more so when she advances towards the guy responsible, accusing him of murder.

And then she sees the moment of slight distress in those hazel eyes when the attendant says "we serve almost all varieties in this establishment."

The look of alarm in those eyes pulls Cosima to the gravity of the situation, and she notices what the potion master has been worrying this whole time: the girl's breathing was almost non existent. Her mind goes back to what she heard moments ago. _**"but to humans, it is fatal. Mix it with alcohol and it becomes poison."**_ Her mind puts two and two together. _She needs to know how much alcohol is in the wine._ Without really thinking, she steps forward and grabs the flask.

Delphine was surprised at her sudden appearance, distracted by the amount of tan skin on display due to her half naked state, and just generally happy as is the norm whenever she sees the smaller girl.

The princess sniffs the flask, then tips the flask to her lips, the image momentarily making Delfin forget the dire situation she's trying to salvage.

"This is Dornish white wine." Cosima visibly swirls her tonuge around her mouth, making Delphine's throat dry. "Relatively low in alcohol content." she continues. "That is what you are looking for, is it not?"

It takes a moment for Delphine to realize that Cosima was talking to her, expectantly looking at her, waiting for an answer.

"Oui..." an almost impercebtible squint at the term. _That word again._

Delphine notices and chooses her words carefully. She clears her throat. "uhm..we, we need to know how strong the alcohol is, so I know how much of which ingredient I'll use in concocting the antidote, or if she can still be saved at all." She knows she is rambling, but she can't help herself, not when Cosima was in front of her wearing almost next to nothing. "What are you doing here?" she asks absentmindedly.

And then it hits her: where they are, what people do here, Cosima's lack of clothing, along with the almost guilty expression on the princess' face before it quickly turns to one of defiance.

Cosima clenches her jaw, feeling uncomfortable as Delphine realizes what she must have been doing there, then brushes the guilt away, not understanding why she should be guilty in the first place.

"'I'm.." _here because I'm too sexually frustrated and if I don't get it off my system I might just spontaneously combust and it's your fault. _The moment is gone as the young man Felix sent searching comes stumbling in haste.

"Here m'lady." He hands them over, trying to catch his breath. It gives the potion master the needed excuse to stop thinking about it and focus on the girl's life instead. "Thank you" she smiles at him, causing him to blush and forget about being tired, eagerly asking her if there's anything more she needs. Cosima watches the interaction with distaste, and then gets irritated at herself for it.

_Why do I even care if he's acting like a stupid overly eager lap dog. _Their brief moment of actually getting along is gone just as fast.

"I'm gonna leave you to it." she starts to back away, but a soft voice stops her.

"Cosi...princess Cosima..." she almost flinches at the word, remembering how she basically demanded Delphine to address her by her title.

"Thank you for your help." Delphine says it with her head downcast, and forces herself to focus on the unconscious girl, trying to block out Cosima who was awkwardly standing there, blurting out an equally awkward "all life matters" before huffing at herself and walking away. Pale slender fingers work fast in spreading out the ingredients, a fond yet sad chuckle escaping her lips. _You are still so very much the same gentle caring petit chiot._

* * *

Once Kira was tucked in her bed, Rachel wastes no time in reopening the painting, and taking everything inside the vault, transferring them to a safety box to bring with her to King's Landing where she can study them in earnest. She doesn't have the time to linger, because she has to go back immediately for

_the tourney._

She groans, tired and cranky with everything going on, and now she has to be present for the Hand's Tourney, a celebration of a position she almost swore she was born for.

_Why did I ever agree in the first place? Oh, yes..._ she finally succumbed to the idea when Felix convinced her that it would get the people to enjoy something from and for her, for them to get used to the idea of a female Hand, blah blah blah. Honestly, she didn't really care, until Felix mentioned Ethan.

"It's what your father would have done." She whirls back to face him, ready to jump at his throat, but she doesn't when she sees that there is trace of innuendo or malice in his face. He simply stated it as a simple truth, which, much to her chagrin, she knows as well. So in lieu of a cordial acquiesce, she flashes a tight lipped smile and snarls a "fine."

She leans her head against the opening of the painting, feeling the exhaustion of her hasty travel fully taking effect, and she slowly closes closes it. She stops when the the side of the swings to her periphery, and she turns her head to properly look at it, feeling something off.

She gives it a few more test swings, then aligns it in front of her again, her eyes squinting.

_Are paintings supposed to be this thick?_

To the common eye, they would not have noticed anything, but Rachel, having had an eye and a taste for the finer things in life, knows that the back of the painting is still abnormally thicker than normal, even if it was just by a few inches. She carefully lays her palm on the painting's underside, careful not to press too hard. She is disappointed when her hand meets the soft pliant resistance of canvas, even when she sweeps her hand all over. She almost gives up, but then noticed trough her sweeping, that one side, the side closest to the hinge, is a little wider than the others. It might have been wider because that's where the hinges are installed, but she knows she inherited more than enough of her father's brilliance to recognize it as another hiding place.

Her fingers look for the a catch or a small indent that would open it, and she almost squeals in childish glee when she finds it. She hears a faint click, the edge popping out. It was very narrow, and she wonders what kind of papers her father would think needed extra hiding when all the other papers were in the vault. She carefully opens it, her heart beating in anticipation. Nothing comes out like she expected, and she frowns in confusion, sticking her hand in the narrow space. Something cold and irregularly flat comes into contact with her fingers, and she gingerly fishes it out of its hiding place, then lays it out on her palm. Her confusion only serves to grow as she stares at it, all six inches of the flat dark material.

Rachel has had enough story telling times of the old legends with her father to recognize it for what it is.

_Dragonglass._

…

AN: I don't know whom my heart's breaking for, Paul or Delphine. Ahh, fuck it, I have not a piece left, it just breaks everytime one of them cries, so yeah...no more heart.


	17. Laughter and Laws

AN: I haven't seen Delphine smile this season yet, and the last episode is going to air, and I really really just wanna see her be the smiling bubbly cute little puppy that she is. I letrally pause whenever there's a Cophine scene and tell myself to chill the fuck down because I can't handle the angst.

* * *

Cosima sits beneath the shades, near where Sarah has pitched her tent in the Godswood, the sounds of clanging metal faintly registering in her mind, her mind which is still stuck in the fiasco from the brothel, her mind which is still trying to decipher the ocassional sharp kicks in her chest whenever she remembers the shocked and stricken look from the person who she has conflicting feelings for.

_No, no, don't even go there, I absolutely have no feelings for her._

"- ould win?" She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Alison stopped talking and was now looking at her with a worried expression.

"Mm? Sorry? Yes." she tries, hoping that it would answer whatever question her friend was asking.

"You did not hear a word I said, did you?" Alison's tone was more curious and concerned than offended.

"No" Cosima groans in defeat "I'm sorry, ask me again, and I'll answer, I swear."

"Oh, never mind, it just got answered." the redhead says instead, her eyes watching carefully as Beth gets hit in the face, causing her to lose her helmet and her sword but she doesn't falter and she uses her armor to clip Sarah's arakh to her side, her other fist in the air, Sarah's own hand already holding her wrist. A draw. It finishes their impromptu sparring match, both fighters wearing smug grins of grudging respect.

"Thank the Seven it's finally over." Alison sighs in relief, feeling like she can finally breathe, the tension that clung to her body the whole match finally flowing out of her.

"Ugh, I do hope she's alright. I do not understand why they had to persist in crossing blades, and to what?" Cosima raises her brow at the reaction.

"Which 'her', exactly, are you pertaining to?"

Her friend blushes, and clears her throat. "I meant they. I'm glad they're both alright."

"You meant Beth." she doesn't notice the slight widening of Alison's eyes because hers are trained at the two women gathering their weapons and slowly making their way towards the shade. "I mean, I get it."

"Y-you do?"

"Yeah, it's only natural for you to be partial to her since she's in the Kingsguard while Sarah is a dothraki, who is an outsider, and still viewed by many as a savage. It's normal to favor someone from the 'home team'"

"Yes. Yes, exactly." Alison stutters for a millisecond. "Anyway, are you well Princess Cosima? You seemed...lost a while ago, repetitively in fact for the past few days."

This time, it is Cosima who looks uncomfortable. "Yes, I am, I'm just...wine, work, you know?" she gestures vaguely with her hands. "What about you?" she decides to deflect, "You don't usually come within spitting distance of-" she tilts her head towards the dothraki "not to mention you're not really a fan of blood and gore either, but you actually stayed with me to watch those idiots settle their petty squabble. Not that I'm not grateful of the company, of course, but it's just a little out of character."

She was surprised when Alison woke her this morning by barging in her room, deciding that she will accompany Cosima when she goes to visit and talk to the Dothraki.

"Oh. I just wanted to make sure that you had adequate protection, and that your guard is up to form in saving you should there be a need for it." She has practiced this line for this moment.

"Are my skills in question for you, my Lady? Are you not satisfied?" Beth raises a brow at her, still out of breath.

Alison suddenly snaps up even straighter from where she's sitting, not having noticed that Beth and Sarah were now just a few steps away from them.

"Oh. N-no. Yes. I mean-" she is trying not to stare as Beth takes her gauntlets off, flexing her hands encased in leather gloves.

The Lady of the Riverlands clears her throat after ogling how Beth takes of her gloves by using her teeth to pull them out. "Yes, Lady Selmy, you are adequate."

"Adequate." Beth quriks up a smile that lasts exactly a second, not reaching her eyes. "And I am not a lady." Before anyone says anything more about the matter, she strides away, towards Sarah, who has gone to her tent to fetch water. Alison feels like kicking herself, and is thankful for Cosima whose rambling somehow distracts her.

"There, she's on par with Sarah. She proved herself, Sarah proved herself. Like I said, I'm very content with Beth as my guard and they didn't have to have that match, although I think they both secretly enjoyed it." Things were going well when Beth escorted them towards the Godswood. She even got Sarah to talk, that she was a bloodrider, which led to its comparison with the kingsguard, which led to both women criticizing each other from their weapon to their armor to their fighting style, until it ended with Sarah pointing an arakh at Beth, who didn't need a translator to ask what that means.

It gave Alison the headspace to get her thoughts in order."Come on, let's go join them in the tent, and maybe this time, you'll actually get to have a conversation with her and get the pertinent information that you're supposed to be interrogating about."

When they are inside the small tent, she had to physically stop herself from tearing everything down and rebuilding it herself to its most pristine version. There were no chairs because Sarah only brought what she needed. Cosima was already on the ground, not minding it because she is Dornish. Alison, on the other hand, having been taught that it is rude if she stands, picks the cleanest spot on the rug and then brushes it with her handkerchief before folding her legs beneath her.

Beth, on the other hand, seeing as she has no immediate purpose when the two brunettes with shared taste for kohl begin their communication, decides to do her job.

"I'll do my patrols first." Beth says and steps out of the tent, Alison's eyes following her.

* * *

Delphine watches the door of her room close, Felix having dropped by in her chambers to update her on the girl she saved, cementing their first honest and, although slight, mutual liking of each other. So far, it's the only thing that uplifts her for the day, having been swamped in detecting the poison from the fluids and parts she managed to extract from Ethan. She can feel the exhaustion slowly taking its toll. Between unearthing secrets, trying to connect things, doing her official job, and having to relive memories from another world when she goes to sleep, Delphine feels like she's slowly suffocating.

_Especially ever since I saw Cosima in..._

A sharp tug at her chest reminds her to push it away, push it far away because the present Cosima is Dornish and the Dornish are known for their skills in either fighting or fucking, mostly both. And Delphine knows firsthand that Cosima is very good, even if it was in another life.

She remembers her dream the night before, and she groans at the irony of it.

_"I'm French. We enjoy lovers."_

Lately, she's been reliving dreams where Shay was present, and she rationalizes that the incident at the brothel must have somehow influenced it.

_In both worlds, I had to swallow the pain of seeing you in another person's arms, I had to shove it with professionalism and having to do my job. _

She refused to sleep whenever she woke up in the middle of the night, always feeling lost in both worlds, the emotion the only thing she can contend to be real whenever she wakes up. When she finally manages to remember which is which, that she is presently not Delphine Cormier, she painstakingly jots it down in her journal.

She goes out the small balcony in her room, and she is grateful that she Rachel has not changed her sleeping arrangements and she is still being housed in one of the spare bedrooms, meant for the Hand's family in the Tower of the Hand, although she suspects it's more of the other blonde still not trusting her and wanting to keep her close.

_Good for her, I wouldn't trust me either if I were her. But I don't mind._

Nope, not at all, in fact, she prefers it, because it gives her access to Ethan's room, to his materials and everything else he might have kept in the Tower.

_Rachel doesn't know that she just made looking for answers a lot more easier by making me stay here. She doesn't know about her father and I. Fate really has a funny way of bringing things together._

She perches on the rails, and leans back on the stone wall.

_Although I never thought he'd die, and so suddenly._

She isn't as easily fooled as everybody, she knows that Rachel isn't in the Red Keep or in King's Landing. She took the opportunity to get inside Ethan's former chambers_._

_Somebody murdered him, and I have to know who and why. He's had me tracked down, although I don't know how he got wind of me, much less being beyond a healer and potion master. _

Just thinking about it brings back the familiar bubble of dread and foreshadowing at the back of her mind, the same feeling she had when she received the scroll with the Hand's seal on it, more so when she read Ethan Lannister signed at the bottom. _Ethan Lannister? As in Ethan Duncan?_ she remembers thinking.

_How did you know of me? And your request from me is already underway, although I don't know what to do next with it. _

She always knew something like this would happen, having bits and pieces of the puzzle, but she never knew the magnitude of it or how tangled it actually is.

_Professor Duncan was brilliant, having evaded detection for so long, there was never a doubt about that, but you ,Ethan Lannister, are proving to be more difficult now that you're not here. _

Her thoughts are momentarily pulled when she sees a flicker of light orange down by the Godswood, which was overlooked by the balcony. She leans forward, faintly catching the sound of metal hitting each other. After a moment, she sees a glint of golden armor.

_Beth Childs. Elizabeth Selmy._

Beside her is a wild mane of dark hair and lots of leather.

_Sarrah Manning. A dothraki._

Finally, a flash of blue cloth, a person standing up, dusting off her gown.

_Alison Hendrix. Alison Tully._

Alison pulls someone up, and Delphine feels her heart jump to her throat.

_Cosima Niehaus. Cosima Martell. _

She feels the emotion slowly being replaced by something akin to gratefulness, because she is, she is grateful that somehow, in this world, they still have each other.

_I'm glad she has her sisters, that they found each other despite them being from opposite ends of the world. _

She lets the smile stay on her face as she watches them enter the tent where Sarah has camped.

* * *

She has been standing guard outside the tent nearly a candlemark now, the harsh midday noon finally ebbing to a softer tone.

"Can I do anything for you, Lady Tully?" Beth asks, sighing as she does so.

Alison mirrors the sigh. "How did you know it was me?" She's been standing behind Beth for quite a time now, appreciating Beth up close in her armor, even if she was turned away. She's never really been a fan of armors and knights but Beth somehow truned that notion a full 180 degrees. Alison approaches now that her presence has been acknowledged. It's not that she doesn't know what to say, it's that she doesn't know how to say it._ And because the image of her standing brave and tall with that helmet tucked beneath her arm is quite pleasing._

"Your scent. I can smell you. Like cool water." Beth was still looking far away, her eyes scanning the area, and Alison sneaks a glimpse at her, smiling and feeling warm at the unexpected words.

"And because I know neither the princess nor Sarah would stand quietly behind me for that long." Alison drops her head. _Yes, and that, of course._

"Of course. They're both the charge forward noisily type." Beth only nods, and silence stretches between them, a silence that both are very much aware of.

"Listen, I apologize. I meant no offense in my words, I didn't mean for them to come out that way, Lady Elizabeth."

"No offense taken." Beth was taken momentarily taken aback; no one has ever used her whole name when addressing her, and she hid her surprise in a monotonous voice.

"No. I know you did." Alison's voice was soft. Not arguing, not debating, not her usual formal high tone, and Beth slowly eyes her on the side, noticing the downcast eyes.

"Being in the Kingsguard must be different for a woman, and I can only imagine the kind of comments and biases that you face." Her friend's criticisms when Beth got knighted comes back to her, and she's sure others' are even worse. Beth's grip on the hilt of her sword tightens. "And because I know how dangerous and savagely violent the dothraki can be, so..."

"Were you worried?"

For a moment, Alison felt like she couldn't breathe. _Am I that obvious? _And then she realizes the Beth might be pertaining to Cosima.

"Yes, well, we both know the princess can be quite decisive regardless of the danger, especially when she carelessly trusts the dothraki." _Just like you when you lay your weapon down and approached a very armed and dangerous said dothraki._

"Sarah. Her name is Sarah." Beth says quietly.

Alison feels jealousy bloom inside her chest and she doesn't like it. _This is ridiculous and utterly irrational._ But she knows why. _I envy the way you two seem to just bond naturally, she probably said outright insulting things to you and you two just fight it out. You communicate with blades while I never seem to say anything right with you._

"You two have an interesting friendship." she says instead.

"She's not my friend." the knight snorts quietly. "I mean, in the eyes of the people she is still a suspicious person until proven otherwise, and we are on opposite ends of the pole, the personification of the good guy and the bad guy." She remembers what Cosima said about the dothraki, how they despise weakness, how their strength and savagery is their way of life. "But I know that she did not get to be a bloodrider without being constantly mocked and jeered, even threatened, because she wasn't male. Being constantly reminded that she was weaker, that she should just give up, and knowing the dothraki, being harassed more times than you can count. I honestly don't know how she survived."

"Sounds like someone I know." Alison didn't even realize that she said it out loud until she hears the slight rustle of armor, Beth's stoic face breaking character and briefly glancing at her, and Alison finds that she cannot meet those eyes.

"I'm sorry. I..I might have inquired to Lord Felix about you." she opts for honesty. She hears the woman beside her take a deep breath before letting it go. She turns to look, curious about what that sigh meant, almost the same moment that Beth goes back to watching the distance.

"You're hurt!" Beth almost flinches in surprise, then realizes that Alison must have seen the other side of her face.

"It's just a scratch." she shrugs. And then Beth feels fingers beneath her chin, her head being turned a little roughly to the side.

"Just a scratch? It's already bruising and it's still bleeding!" Beth wanted to point out that it's bleeding again because of all the poking and prodding but she focuses on not flinching instead. Her cheek was an angry shade of red, from the last blow she took from Sarah, and now she can feel the slow trickle of blood down her neck, and Beth wants to laugh at the expression at the face she was staring down to.

"This is exactly why I worry." Alison snaps in a way a mother scolds her child. Almost immediately, her hand flies to her mouth. _Holy doodles, I cannot believe I just gave myself away like that._

Beth suddenly doesn't think that the situation is funny anymore. She doesn't know what to make of it, but her expression softens when she sees how alarmed Alison looked, like she didn't think about what she just said, _which is probably the case_.

The knight raises her hand, golden gauntlet carefully wrapping around the fingers still holding her face in place to be scrutinized by blue eyes.

"You don't have to. I won't die from a small cut." she says, smiling softly.

Beth suddenly realized that in Alison's scrutiny, she has pulled her face down, drawing them closer to each other. _Much too close. _and now she can't help but notice how blue Alison's eyes were, or how the afternoon sun turned her auburn hair into a mesmerizing shade of liquid fire.

She takes a sharp breath, leaning back a little to create much needed distance. This snaps Alison from her own trance and she is back to her flustered self.

"Come." she starts dragging the taller woman by her arm, "we should clean it before it infects."

Sarah and Cosima stop talking when they enter the tent.

"Can you ask her if she has any clean cloth?" Cosima glances at Beth's cheek, and nods, translating the question for Sarah, who crinkled her eyebrows, voicing her own question.

"Uh, she's asking what for, because she sees no use for it." Cosima translates, and then stops herself from laughing at Alison's reaction, because she swears that her tinier-than-herself friend absolutely flared and fumed, pointing at Beth's injury and ranting how it's Sarah's fault.

Beth looked like she wished there was a hole in the ground that can swallow her.

Alison looked indignant.

Cosima was trying to dispel the situation by biting her lip to stop the smile from showing.

Sarah laughed. A good loud laugh complete with knee smacking and belly clutching.

_**"You fuss over the smallest scratches and you even need someone to heal it? How do you call yourselves the greatest warriors when you're more sensitive than a baby?"**_

Cosima has never been so thankful that Alison doesn't understand dotraki, or else there would be a dead body in the next few minutes, and she doesn't even know who it would be. That's how furious Alison looked.

"What in seven hells did she say?" she glares at Cosima, who scrambles for a safe version.

"The, uh, the dothraki value strength above all, they don't really...fuss, about injuries, except if they had their arm chopped or something...which probably translates to a 'no'" she tries not to flinch at how dangerous Alison was glaring at the dothraki who was smirking back in response.

"Lady Alison, it's really no big deal." Beth tries to deescalate things, gently laying her hand on where Alison was gripping her arm.

_Thank the gods for armor or else my arm would be crying for mercy right now._

Alison's gaze goes from their shared touch, to her face, to Cosima, and finally to the still smirking Sarah before she gives out one last huff and storms out the tent.

The three women watch the tent flaps for a moment, before Cosima clears her throat.

"I think you should probably..." she gestures with her thumb pointing to where her friend stormed off.

Beth sighs once more, and she quietly wonders how many times this day has made her sigh already. She gives Sarah her own glare, one that says _really? you really had to smirk?_

Sarah shrugs, and Beth rolls her eyes, going after Alison.

She spots the redhead pacing, or the ladylike version of pacing, under the shade where she and Cosima were sitting hours ago.

She approaches at a steady pace, although she cannot say that she wasn't worried, which increased a thousandfold at Alison's first words when she finally reaches her.

"Give me your knife."

"My Lady?"

"You do have a knife, don't you?"

"I..yes, but.."

Alison sees the hesitation and underlying comical horror in Beth's face. She starts untying her coatdress.

The knight takes a step back out of surprise.

"My Lady, you're..what..?" _By the mother, what is going on?! _Alison has unlaced enough that her thin inner gown is visible, making Beth's thoughts stand still.

The smaller woman lifts her hand, palm up. "Knife."

Beth could hardly think at the moment and numbly unsheathes it, finally handing it over, watching in awe and shock as Alison tears a piece of her underdress out.

Looking over at Beth's horrified expression, she gives a smile. "Don't worry, because it's mine, it's pristinely clean so I don't have to worry about putting anything nasty on your wound."

A still stupefied Beth can only nod.

_Right. Of course, not exactly what I'm thinking of at the moment, but of course._

Alison gives the knife back, a piece of white cloth triumphantly held in her hand.

"Here. Can I..just." she starts dabbing at Beth's wounded cheek, focused and completely unaware that she has once again brought their faces closer.

Elizabeth Selmy, the first woman to ever become Kingsguard, is standing like a stupefied deer under this tiny human's ministrations, taking the opportunity to study Alison unhindered at close range.

_Looking at her...feeling her gentle hands on my face...I have never felt this kind of peace, I'm not even sure if I remember what peace felt like._

When she feels Alison is about to finish, she grabs the hand with the cloth, stopping the motion.

"I got it from here. I learned the basics of patching myself up from all my injuries."

Their eyes meet. "Oh, yes. Of course, I'm sorry, I.." Alison catches herself stuttering when she sees the repressed smile on Beth's lips. She clears her throat, taking a step back and assuming her stiff nobility pose. "I'm glad it doesn't look serious."

"Mmmhm." Beth nods. After a moment, "So you were worried."

Alison breaks out of character and gives her a little shove, loving the sound of genuine laughter from the Kingsguard. For her, she has never heard a sweeter sound.

* * *

Rachel can see the Red Keep from the carriage's window, and part of her doesn't want to enter. She's surprised by this, that a part of her would rather have stayed at Casterly Rock even for just a few days and be with Kira.

When she reaches the secret passageway, she isn't surprised to find Felix there.

"My Lady Hand, perhaps you should consider informing certain people before you ride off in the midnight." he greets, opening the door for her.

"Perhaps I should." she replies, not bothering to explain.

"You really should. I had to come up with something for the few people who have been requesting your presence." She gives him a brief glance, thankful but not wanting to admit it. She honestly thought everyone would be too busy setting up the tourney, and she gave instructions to Troy to tell anybody who looked for her that she's "preoccupied at the moment and doesn't wish to be disturbed."

_Whoever these people are, they are quite persistent._

"May I walk you to your chambers then? There are people waiting for you there."

She doesn't give him the satisfaction of asking who, and he rolls his eyes.

"Certain people you requested are now requesting your presence."

"Of course." she nods. _The craftsman and Master of Laws. I didn't expect them til the tourney starts._ The walk to the Tower is silent for the most part. When they reach the stairs going up, Felix declines.

"You can do the physical climbing yourself, I will be of more use telling our dear Master of Law that you're here."

They act as if they haven't said or heard anything, just casually resuming going towards their respective destinations, as is their way.

She opens the door to the audience chamber, a tall and bearded man turning at the sound of the door.

"Good. You're here. So are you what they say you are?"

"Cal of Myr, m'lady." He gives a slight bow. Myrish people are renowned for their ability to build and craft, especially with glass. The best and most expensive glass creations come from Myr.

"I don't care who you are." she waves her hand dismissively, walking towards the elevated platform so she can stare him down. "What I care about is if my request for the best craftsman can be met." She is tired from her journey, and it is making snappish.

He seems unphased by her lack of welcome. "Of course. I am from Myr, am I not? And I can already see that you favor Myrish products, based on the rugs and various other laces in this room. You have good taste."

"No, I didn't decorate this place. It was-" _my father _"someone else."

The intimidating look is gone for a moment. Cal decides not to bring attetention to it. "Then I am here, at your service." he claps his hands. "What do you want me to do?"

Rachel gathers herself. "I want to renovate this place. I want the solar to have glass and not the dark and dreary stones. I want to expand my study and to make the walls out of glass. Also, my chambers." The Myrman's jaw slowly drops with every word coming from her mouth.

"M'lady, a project of this kind and size has never been attempted."

"Money is not an issue." she assures him.

"No, no, I meant that it has probably never been done before. No one has conceptualized such...an idea." He seems lost in his own head, already visualizing the difficulties and technicalities to perform this task, but then he smiles, like a small boy being given his first set of tools. "I like it."

They are interrupted when the door opens, revealing the Master of Laws, clothed in a flowing gown of white with blue highlights, denoting House Arryn. Rachel gives her a nod, and she closes the door.

"Can you do it?"

"You requested for the best, did you not?" he beams. "I'll need the plan prints of this whole tower."

"I'll have someone summon you to get it from me, and we can discuss it then." She decides to deal with his lose and flippant manner some other time, focusing more on her other guest.

He acknowledges his dismissal, giving one last bow before heading towards the door. Once the door has closed, Rahel faces the Master of Laws.

"Lady Arryn." she says coolly.

"Lady Lannister." the long haired brunette answers in the same tone.

Their faces are impassive as they look at each other, a minute of silence descending over them. And then Lady Arryn huffs a small laugh, warmth spreading over her features as she walks over to where Rachel was stiffly standing.

"Rachel." she says with a small laugh, enveloping the smaller blonde in a hug.

Rachel returns the hug with genuine reciprocation. She is the only person Rachel allows to call her by her first name and without any titles.

There might even be a small smile on her lips when she pulls back, but she automatically disregards it.

"Kahlan."

…

AN: I remember being mind fucked months ago when I realized that Cal Morrison is Daario Naharis.

Anyway, HERE SHE IS, THE MASTER OF LAWS. Please tell me you know who she is, or I'm gonna start feeling old.


	18. I'm sorry for this

"Kahlan."

They have dropped all formalities after being raised together when Lord Aryyn died, leaving a 7 year old Kahlan an orphan and Lady of the Veil. Ethan Lannister took her in as a ward, until she came of age and has been ruling the Vale ever since. Kahlan and Rachel are both stand offish people, being born into powerful ruling families and shouldering responsibilities at a very young age when all they wanted was to have a friend. And so they found real friendship with each other, an unlikely one where they are the other's only real friend; both knowing what it means to be ruthless to be able to rule, both being the only women in the Small Council, and both losing the person who taught them everything they had to know, making Kahlan the only person who knows how Rachel is feeling. Both are terrifying, both are bold and not to be trifled with, and they have a strange connection that they both find comfort in.

The taller brunette give one more squeeze before letting go of the hug. "Oh Rachel. I'm really sorry about..." she pauses, knowing that it was a sore subject, "he was like a father to me too."

Rachel swallows, then gives a stiff smile. "Yes, I know."

"How do you feel now?"

Rachel straightens her almost relaxed posture and avoids meeting those startling blue eyes, feeling them follow her as she walks around.

"I am perfectly all right. Now, the reason I-" she stops when she hears her friend sigh.

"Rachel...I don't even need you to look at me to know that you're lying, and no, " she cuts before Rachel can say anything, "Im not saying it as the Master of Laws and using my ability. I am saying it as your friend who also loved him as my own father,and because I know you, Rachel. I know how stubborn you are."

The blonde sits down, closing her eyes for a moment. Aside from Kira, Kahlan was the only person who can call Rachel out on her bullshit, because she has the peculiar ability to sense if someone is being truthful or not.

"Fine, but can we not talk about that for the moment? That isn't why I called for you. we have more important things to discuss. It's connected to this."

AN: Ok, I know, it's really short. Because that finale just short circuited my brain, and I feel so sad and outraged and I literally cried and I was screaming at my screen AND IT"S MY PERIOD AND I CAN'T DO THIS ALONE, PLEASE TELL ME I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE CRYING OVER DELPHINE. I know, it might look funny, and it's TV, but my reaction is very real and very visceral(yes, I get protective and emotionally attached to fictional characters, sue me) and none of my friends watch OB so I can't vent so can anybody please just go through this with me because I have no one to talk to. I can still feel my heart pounding. I am dead serious. I just needed to do this for mental and emotional purposes.


	19. Clarity and Confusion

AN: Okay, I'm so sorry, it's late, I know, but I'm still not over Delphine, I will never be over Delphine, and I had to go scratch my sanity and feels off the wall. Also, a close friend got diagnosed with GAD, so...yeah.

I feel like I'm the only one who watched Legend of the Seeker. Kahlan Amnell anyone? No? Okay, you don't know what you're missing. Or I'm just really old. I feel old.

* * *

"Kahlan."

They have dropped all formalities after being raised together when Lord Aryyn died, leaving a 7 year old Kahlan an orphan and Lady of the Veil. Ethan Lannister took her in as a ward, until she came of age and has been ruling the Vale ever since. Kahlan and Rachel are both stand offish people, being born into powerful ruling families and shouldering responsibilities at a very young age when all they wanted was to have a friend. And so they found real friendship with each other, an unlikely one where they are the other's only real friend; both knowing what it means to be ruthless to be able to rule, both being the only women in the Small Council, and both losing the person who taught them everything they had to know, making Kahlan the only person who knows how Rachel is feeling. Both are terrifying, both are bold and not to be trifled with, and they have a strange connection that they both find comfort in.

Kahlan raises a brow in question, noticing the serious gaze and feeling the air shift.

"Connected how?"

Rachel debates how much to say, but then again, Kahlan was the only person who could feel her loss in a personal level. "I'm trying to find the cause of death." That is all she says, but she can almost hear the gears turning from the pale brunette, the blue eyes squinting imperceptibly before widening in understanding.

"I knew it. I always thought of the possibility that he didn't die of sickness like they said. Except it doesn't make any sense, no one profits from his death, he is the most loved in the Seven Kingdoms."

Rachel keeps silent, letting her friend voice everything out.

"How?" Kahlan asks, turning so she is fully facing Rachel.

"Poison, is what we suspect."

"Ah. The foreign potion master. I knew you wouldn't have just let a sranger work so closely to the heart of the City for 'educational and expanding information ' purposes. Are you making her make antidotes?"

"No, she actually is paired up with the Grand Maester and other maesters doing their official job, but also trying to detect the Tears of Lys."

"That's impossible, the Tears are untraceable."

"Not to her, if the Fairy and Grand Maester are to be believed." Kahlan contemplates this new information.

"I suppose that's where I come in then? To validate if she's telling the truth." Rachel nods. Kahlan's intelligence and brilliance has never been in question for Rachel. Although their tastes somehow deviated, one focusing in business and commerce and the other focusing in laws, it has always been a double edged sword for the blonde. She liked it because she didn't have to explain everything, and she hated it because she could rarely hide things from Kahlan.

But it's not just the the most dangerous thing about Kahlan, aside from her intelligence and combat skills, is her ability to judge the truth. It's what marks her and makes her special, and it was how she got to be Master of Laws. Most criminals fear appearing before her because she can always see the truth. She is known for her ruthless punishments, a woman who is not afraid to give equal, sometimes worse, retribution as she sees fit, known for ruling the Vale with an iron fist. Behind the long wavy brown hair, tall stature, sky blue eyes and poised smile, is a sharp and acute danger that is equally poised. Her beauty is not in question, far from it, her face being something that might be carved and prayed to, but the only thing that can match her beauty is the calm sense of danger she emits, like a beautifully crafted sword that can split a man in two.

She slowly walks until she is towering over the Hand, then gives a smile with a promise of convection behind it.

"Of course I'll help, Rachel. You know I'd do anything for him." Her expression relaxes, then takes the crook of Rachel's arm. "Now, tell me, how have you been doing?"

The most powerful person in the land does her best to not groan out loud or roll her eyes.

Cosima wonders how long before Alison figures herself out. She has silently slipped out of view into one of the library's shelves to give her and Beth some private time. She figured she could teach Sarah the common tongue(not knowing that she doesn't need to), so she proposed going to the library to get some materials, Beth offering to accompany her since they are heading for the Godswood afterwards anyway. Alison doesn't hesitate in "helping pick some books to help educate Sarah."

_Hah, helping my ass. They never even realized I wasn't there anymore._

And that's how she's currently alone, two shelves over, trying to reach a book and trying not to let go of the stack of paper on her other hand while cursing her height at the same time. She feels someone sneak up and bear hug her from behind. She is about to scream, when she hears a low chuckle from the person carrying her.

"Hah, what do you know, my favorite princess and customer all the way here in King's Landing." The moment her feet touch the ground, she gives a shove backwards.

"You ass."

Cal just laughs at her, then picks up the book and papers she dropped when he hugged her.

"Never took you for a septa, teaching kids to be miserable while learning to read and write" he says, looking over the papers."

"Long story." she waves her hand.

"Oooh, these look interesting." he spreads one particular paper open, critical eye scanning the designs of casks, tanks, kegs, and different bottles.

"Books and plans about grains and grapes. Connected to making more drinks for the gods, no doubt." he comments.

"No doubt. And you? Myr is a long way home."

"I have been commissioned by her scaryness the Hand of the King to basically rebuild her tower. What can I say, I AM the best." he waggles his eyebrows.

"That you are." she chuckles.

The sound of clinking metal stops around the corner, Beth coming into view, her sword already partially unsheathed.

"No no no no, " Cosima immediately steps between them, her hands waving in the air. Beth stops scanning for even just a sliver of threat when Alison appears, having caught up with Beth. Her hand doesn't loosen its grip.

"Everyone, this is Cal. He's a master craftsman from Myr and has been called on by Lady Rachel to renovate the tower. It's all right, I'm all right." she adds when it seems that the knight doesn't have any intentions of easing. Beth seems satisfied that he's harmless, and her sword clicks shut.

"It's an honor to meet you, Cal. How exactly do you know Princess Cosima?" Alison asks, deflating the remaining tension.

"I am her reason for seeing, mlady." he says with a straight face, then burst out in a chuckle when Cosima hits him on the stomach.

"He's the one who crafted these, " she points to her glasses, "and he's also the one who built all my glassware and equipment for brewing back in Dorne."

"I am half the reason her wine tastes the way it tastes. You can't make wine without materials," he grins cheekily down at her. "But I can't really take credit for her eye contraption, I just remodelled and refined her old one."

"Oh, who built the previous one?"

Alison can visibly see her friend deflate a little.

Cosima was now looking at the floor, struck by a memory, the sadness resonating to her voice.

"Lord Ethan." she murmurs. "I mean, he designed and invented it, when he found out I had vision problems, then he asked the best craftsman at the time to build it. He gave me the ability to see."

There was awkward silence in response, and then, "That craftsman trained me." Cal pipes in, and everyone is silently thankful for his diversion. "I just did some adjusting and refining when our ever graceful princess here broke her old pair." He ruffles her thin braids, glad that he was able to make her smile.

"Oooh, this is perfect timing. When you're not busy, can I task you with furnishing, maybe design some glassware for my workplace?"

"I thought I already built everything you need in Dorne?" his brows do the questioning.

"My workplace here. In the cellars." she grins up at him. "Yup, that's right, I plan to experiment on their crops and grapes here, what kind of alcohol they can produce, and how many varieties I can discover. Highgarden alone has so many different types of..." Alison calmly catches the tanned hands, flailing and arcing in the air, Cosima having been caught up in the moment.

"I think he gets the idea."

"Oh, right, right, sorry." she looks up at him. "Can you?" Cal rubs his beard. "Hmmn, I don't know. I'm pretty sure Her Scaryness isn't big on sharing." Cosima rolls her eyes.

"You get to have the first barrel of all the new products before they be shipped to the four corners of the world, and in turn you do anything that Cosima might need you to." this rom Alison, causing the previously rolling eyes to snap towards her.

His response was immediate. "Deal." Everyone knows that whatever Cosima comes up with, the whole world will thirst for it. "You know, maybe I can even start now." and he propmtly plucks the designs out of her hands, walking away with a skip in his steps, all heads turning to watch him go.

Knight and princess both turn to look at Alison.

"Did you just bribe him?"

"Of course not, don't be silly." The two girls stare at her incredulously.

"It's called incentive." Alison huffs out. "At least now, you can have him do anything and you dont have to pay anything, just barrels."

Cosima opens her mouth, then closes it, dropping her hand which was raised, supposed to make a point.

"That's...actually shrewd." Beth agrees with a half shrug half nod.

Lady Tully smiles, immensely pleased with herself but more because of Beth's reaction. Her smile drops when she sees her friend leaning back on the shelves with a grimace.

"Are you alright?" she asks, concern in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a head ache." she can feel the dull pain behind her eyes flare up.

"Is it those nightmares again?" the redhead lays a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Maybe my glasses need reajusting again or something. Lord Ethan said it could happen." She knows Alison's right, however; the nightmares are slowly becoming more frequent and vivid and she keeps waking up, her body cold and shaking.

"I thought Scott gave you something for the pain. Maybe you can try something else?" "He did. And I did try other methods." _except I'm not about to tell you that I'm smoking dried leaves and those aren't working anymore either. _"Nothing works anymore." she sighs.

Alison was looking at her with a serious contemplative expression.

"You are scaring me with those eyes. What is it?"

"There's someone else who can give you something to help with the pain." For a moment, Cosima was excited at the prospect of finally taking a break form the constant nightmares and pain, but then she gets it, and her reaction is immediate.

"No. I am not going to her." she begins straightening herself up.

Beth, oblivious to things, interjects. "Oh, Delphine of Lys. She's the best in making potions, right? I'm sure she has something for you." Despite the pain, Cosima's mind goes to the gutter at those particular words, giving her all the more reason for her eyes to scream _nope, no thank you Alison. I don't need another thing on top of this headache to drive me all the more crazy._

Alison's scream _be reasonable about this, you know Beth's right. Please stop being stubborn._

They continue their glare off.

"...or not." an afterthought when she notices the silent exchange between the two nobles.

"No, Alison." Cosima brushes the hand on her shoulder, making to move away, only to be physically blocked.

"You're in pain, and the khol doesn't hide the darkness under your eyes." "I said no. I won't go to her." and she sidesteps the smaller woman "I'm gonna go see Sarah." "You're escaping." Alison calls out after her, "You need sleep, Cosima!" It is not until later that she realizes that for the first time, due to her worry, Alison has forgotten to address her as princess. At the present, however, she just wants to get away from the conversation and from the thoughts of a person whose face has been haunting her for days.

* * *

Beth watches Alison watching Cosima's retreating back. She wants to ask what's going on, what just happened, but knows it's not her place to ask, but seeing Alison with a very worried expression is kicking something somewhere underneath her ribs, especially when she hears a pained sigh. Beth steels herself, reminding herself of their position and status.

_I want to embrace her and tell her everything's goi- wait, what , embrace? Why in seven hells would I embrace her?_

Alison crosses an arm over her stomach, her hand coming up to lightly cover her face. She sighs again. "She keeps resisting me. I'm just trying to help, I'm trying to look out for her, to get her to feel better because she's my friend, and I do care about her so why is she resisting me? Am I not a good enough friend?" Beth can see the frustration, the exhausted nervous self doubting energy that just seems to pour out of the smaller woman.

That finally pushes her to move, and she almost doesn't realize it when her hand, her gauntlet really, carefully grips Alison's elbow, causing her to slowly look up in surprise. Their eyes meet, the connection instantaneous. Even though the only point of connection between them is a soft but firm grip, armor and sleeve in between, but that is all they need, because Alison visibly calms down as they continue gazing into each other's eyes.

Beth knows that she has no right to do what she's doing, considering how Alison is such a stickler for rules, but at the moment, she doesn't care, because in that moment there was just her and Alison beneath towering shelves and books as their witness of something flowing between them they both cannot describe.

The knight's training kicks in however, when she sees movement at the end of the shelf. She stiffens, immediately dropping her hand, and their magic moment pops out of existece. It takes longer for Alison to realize what's happening, confused about the stiff and formal expression on Beth's face, the exact opposite of what she got lost in a few seconds ago. It occurs to her that Beth is looking at someone behind her. She's about to turn around, wondering who it is, but Beth beats her to the punch.

"Your grace."

Alison's breath catches in her throat, her heart thundering in her ears.

"Your grace." she says with a graceful dipping of the head, unlike the stiff and formal nod Beth did.

King Donnie approaches them, Ser Arthur and Ser Paul beind him.

"Lady Tully." He takes her hand, slowly bowing to kiss it and oozing charm from every pore. "It is an honor to see you again."

From the corner of her eye, Beth can see a very flustered but pleased Alison, smiling like a teenaged girl, and she grits her teeth at the vague begrudging feeling creeping into her chest.

_What is this and why do I feel like punching something?_ And then her eyes meet Paul's. Paul who taught her how to fight. Paul, who is her first love. Paul, who lied to her and just used her because she was the daughter of one of the greatest fighters, the epitome of a knight, and he wanted a glimpse of Selmy's pioneering journals on fighting, which never went out of his private shelves.

_Ah. There's my answer._ They haven't really spoken since she found out and broke things off with him, even when he apologized and said that he does care about her.

She is only half listening to the chitchat going on between lady and king, trying to ignore Art's warning youlooklikeyou'regonnadosomethingstupiddontdoanythingstupid look, and she is a little surprised when she vaguely hears Alison mention her name.

"Pardon, my lady?" she recovers herself.

"King Donnie has offered himself as a guide for the walk in the gardens." She was looking up expectantly.

"That's all and well, my lady, enjoy your walk." Beth didn't mean for it to come out like that, specially that the redhead almost looks wounded by her blunt dismissove reaction.

"My duty is to protect Princess Cosima as she deals with her task. Ser Arthur and.." she pauses, giving him a look, "Ser Paul, will be very capable in accompanying you."

"I'm sure the flowers will mean no harm." Paul replies with a small smile.

Beth's expression doesn't change. "I'm sure they won't." The three other people awkwardly watch their interaction. Before anyone else can say anything, Beth turns to face the king.

"By your leave, your Grace, I have to catch up with Princess Cosima." "Oh, yes, yes, of course." that is all she needs, taking one step back before turning away, not bothering with another word, her quick steps quietly echoing throughout the library, and they can only watch her go.

At first, Alison thought it was her that caused the change in Beth's behavior, until she remembers that she and Paul have history. A very intimate, painful, history that stretches back to years ago. _Of course it wasn't you, silly girl, who are you in her life to be of significance enough to cause a reaction like that?_ She even feels embarrassed; she was quick to assume that Beth would be joining them, and she felt shame when the knight reminded them, reminded her most specially, that her duty was protecting her very stubborn friend. The mention of Paul, and the undertones in their exchange, starts a confusing kind of anger in her.

_What am I angry at? To whom?_

She can already hear King Donnie back to his cheerful demeanor, and she decides to focus on that, focus on the excitement of being personally escorted by the king, and shove the confusion away.

* * *

Cosima is startled when Berh grumpily enters the tent, Sarah having known her approach by the slight sound of clinking armor with her more trained ears.

"Where's Alison?" she asks after waiting for a moment before realizing that no one else will be walking in and that Beth came alone.

"Lady Tully is taking awalk in the gardens with the king." Cosima almost swears she can detect a surly tone.

The kingsguard draws her sword, pointing it at Sarah, the intent impossible to miss. "You. Me. Outside. Now." The dothraki immediately jumps up, almost excitedly, ignoring the protests from her companion. "Wait, we're not done here yet."

"With all due respect, Princess Cosima, you look like you're not feeling well, and it shows, Sarah here is bored, no offense, and she looks like she's also itching for a match." Cosima sighs, looking defeated and drained. Beth softens her voice. "You need to rest. You could use a break...we all could use a break." she says as an afterthought.

Cosima smiles wryly at the two warriors already halfway out the tent. "Your idea of a break being going all out without actually killing each other?" Beth shrugs, and she looks over at Sarah, who just does the same thing.

"Fine." she sighs dramatically, giving them both an eyeroll.

* * *

Sarah doesn't know how long they've been sparring, but doesn't really mind. What she does mind, however, is how Beth is fighting. She can feel the added aggressiveness to each strike, the growls and grunts when Beth is normally calm and collected even when in combat, the frustration coming off of her in waves. Her emotions are giving her a boost when it comes to strength, but it takes away her grace and finesse, which Sarah uses to her advantage, her arms and legs already beginning to shake from the strain of Beth's blows and running around.

I have to end this before she ends up hurting both of us.

She sees an opening, and swiftly blocks another attack before turning, using the hilt of her arakh to hit Beth on the temple, her foot making a sweep at the same time which sends the knight face flat on the ground. She quickly turns over, attempting to stand, but Sarah steps on the blade of the sword, the curve of her arakh already cradling the visible skin between helmet and breastplate.

"_**Ohos!**_" (stop!)she warns.

And that is how Cosima finds them,with Sarah sternly staring down at Beth, having been convinced that the two fighters were hacking each other to pieces based on the intensity of violent sounds coming outside the tent so she wobbled out on unsteady feet to make sure they weren't. Beth swats the blade away from her neck, grumpily getting to her feet.

"_**You done fighting your anger out?**_" Sarah admonishes in her harsh dothraki accent.

"Wait, you're angry?" Cosima asks Beth.

"No." she grumbles, and Sarah squints her eyes disapprovingly.

"_**You were a child today, all emotions and no thought.**_" "Now what is she saying?"

Cosima looks back and forth between the two of them, not sure what's going on. "That you were fighting with your emotions and not giving much thought." Beth glares at Sarah, then eventually sighs, taking off her helmet.

"You're right, I apologize, to both of you. If it were a more serious situation, I could've ended up with more than my ass getting kicked, or have someone else be hurt because of me." Cosima smiles at her, translating her apology for Sarah's benefit. The dothraki dips her gaze in lieu of an acknowledgement, and then her brows draw together, staring at something, Beth comprehends, is behind her. She turns, her face doing a more severe impression of Sarah's expression.

Confidently walking and closing the distance between them is Ser Paul. He stops a few paces away, warily eyeing Sarah. From the corner of her eye, Cosima can see Beth and Sarah smirk at this.

"Princess Cosima." he addresses her, then looks at his fellow kingsguard.

"Beth." She bristles at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth, or rather, how he says hers name; tinged with regret, sadness, and almost as if he cared.

"Ser Paul." Cosima swoops to the rescue, "what brings you here?" He doesn't take his eyes off of Beth.

"You are being called upon by the Lady Hand. She requests your presence, both of you." he finally turns his eyes toward the princess.

"I can go alone." Beth immediately steps up when she sees how Cosima winces, as if physically pained, upon hearing the news. "Princess Cosima isn't feeling well."

"Lady Rachel has explicitly-"

"I said I can go alone. I'll explain and deal with the consequences." Paul casts her a warning glance. _Don't take this personally, I'm doing my job and you should do yours._

Beth gives him an answering look. _I has nothing to do with you or me._ "Look at her Paul. Do you honestly think she's in the condition to walk around much less climb that tower? She should be resting." For the first time, Paul really looks at Cosima, noting the slight swaying, unusual pallor, and subtle grimaces every once in a while.

"Very well." _She does look like shit._ "I will take your position as her guard." She's about to argue when she feels an arm pull her back slightly. "No, he's right, for formality's sake, someone should be with me while I am around Sarah." Cosima softly says, too tired to argue. "Go. I'll be alright." she assures Beth.

The knight nods. "By your leave, Princess Cosima." She gives Paul one last loaded look when she walks past him.

* * *

Delphine is in Rachel's study, updating her on the ongoing test.

"How much longer?" the shorter blonde asks as calmly as possible without losing her patience.

"As I have said, it will take time, but not to worry. You'll have definite results in two or three days."

Rachel walks around her table, stopping in front of Delphine and looking her directly in the eyes. "I better. And you better be telling the truth...about everything. Something tells me you're not who you say you are."

Delphine gives a placating smile. "I'll be happy to prove my credentials to you. I would not be here if I don't know what I do about potions. You can ask Grand Maester Aldous. Already, the revisions and additions I'm working with his team of maesters are improving their knowledge on the subject."

They both know that's not what Rachel meant, but before things could escalate, the guard at her door knocks.

"Kingsguard here to see you, my lady."

She gives Delphine a warning look._We are not done._

"Send her in." A moment later, Beth enters.

"My lady." she greets, mentally bracing herself once she sees the two blondes with their perfectly cool facades.

Rachel lifts a brow. "Did I not make myself clear when I asked that there should be two of you standing in front of me right now?"

_Here we go. _"Pardon me, my lady, but Princess Cosima wasn't feeling well." She sees the taller blonde trying to subtly not look at her.

"She does understand that this is extremely important and a little sickness can be set aside." Beth cannot help but see a lioness about to pounce at her prey.

"I understand my lady, but even Ser Paul agrees with me that she needs immediate rest, and with all due respect if you were to see her, you'll also give the same judgement, and I'll answer any queries you might have." she gulps in fear, but decides to stand by her decision to stand up for Cosima because it was the right thing to do.

Because Delphine is behind her, Rachel doesn't notice the obvious flinching she does, turning her head to blatantly looking at Beth, whose eyes flick towards her for a second, not wanting to give her away.

_She looks as if someone killed her favorite pet and she's about to cry._ The Lysene seems to catch herself, trying to shield herself up again.

Too conversation in the library seems a bit clearer now.

Rachel, completely unaware, narrows her eyes at Beth. "Ser Paul has _agreed with you_, has he?" "Yes, my lady." For a brief period, she legitly contemplates how best to escape with the look Rachel is giving her, but then the Hand steps away, returning to sit behind her table.

"If Ser Paul condones it, I suppose she really must not be feeling well." Her almost smirking tone, and the sadistic smile she has when Beth says 'yes, my lady, she really needs rest' gives Delphine all the more reason to hate her.

In another world, you were helplessly lying on a hospital bed while a poked your eye and I enjoyed every moment of it. You would not like what I am capable of in this world.

"Lady Delphine." that snaps her out her dark thoughts. "We will continue our conversation some other time. You, however," she turns to Beth, looking her up and down " I hope you will be able to adequately satisfy my answers." Beth almost smiles at this.

_Oh you have no idea how much I want to anser your questions._ She can't help but throw one last glance at the foreigner, passing by her as she goes out, their eyes briefly connecting, and she realizes this is the first time she's seen the pale beauty up close.

_By the gods, she IS beautiful. And I can't help but feel like she's also dangerous. Beauty like that doesn't come with innocence. _She mentally shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

She also looks like she doesn't want to leave yet, a sentiment we share, although I know it's because she wants to hear more about a sick princess and because I'd feel more secure in stepping out of this room alive.

She steels herself the moment she hears the door click shut.

"Now then," Rachel begins, "what is the barbarian's purpose for coming here and what did my father want with her."

"My lady, I think it's better if you ask her yourself." Beth stops herself from smiling at the annoyed confused look from Rachel.

"I would but she doesn't understand a word I'm saying and for some ungodly reason, princess Cosima is the only one fluent enough in the dothraki tongue, but as you say, she cannot make it, so you better not let me repeat my question."

"I meant what I said, my lady. She refuses to talk to anyone about the matter. She only wants to talk to you. Princess Cosima has tried everything, and she's cooperative enough, but she resolutely will 'not talk about it to people uninvolved', I believe is what she said." She bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling smugly, but Rachel notices anyway, and she sends a death glare towards Beth.

"Then let us hope that she has enough intelligence to carry a conversation with me in the common tongue." she replies calmly, much too calmly for Beth's liking, especially when she dismisses her, "you can continue on with your task", with a smile. She doesn't like it one bit.

* * *

The preparations for the Hand's tourney is in full swing, and sounds of hammering, shouting, and sawing are all over the grounds. Cosima can feel her headache expand with every sound. She tries her best not to mind, but the pain behind her eyes has now bloomed to unbearable proportions that she can't fight the wave of dizziness that overtakes her, making her sway on her feet, not bothering to listen to what Scott was rambling about.

"Whoa. Do you need to sit down? You're looking very pale." she dimly hears the maester.

"No, no." she tries to brush off, "Just tired, and lack of sleep, probably." Scott holds both of her elbows, staring down at her in concern. "You're looking more like a Starke than a Martell with how pale you're becoming." He looks around for a moment. "Why don't we go sit down at the Maester's booth. They're still constructing it but at least it's comfortable." Cosima sighs in defeat, deciding that it's better not to argue and that she does need to sit down. She lets Scott assist her through the very busy grounds. When they reach the booth, he leads her towards the back of the tent, separated from the front open part, depositing her on a high backed chair.

She sighs in comfort, closing her eyes, not really realizing how much she needed this. Scott smiles. "Comfortable?"

She groans in response.

"Maester Scott!" they hear the grand maester's voice somewhere outside.

"I better go." He looks down at her. "Will you be all right?" "Yes, yes" she waves him off, her eyes still closed. "I can just sit here until I decompose or until my head ache goes away." He chuckles, patting her on the shoulder before going out to answer his summons.

Cosima slowly opens her eyes, the pain quietly receding to nothing, the sound of hammering and people yelling still very audible, but at least inside, it's not as loud.

_I might have to steal this chair, _she muses wryly as she enjoys the feeling of not having needles constantly poking inside her head. She hears a flapping of wings, and her head turns towards the sound. There, up the little space that lets light inside the tent, a is a three eyed raven. It is gazing calmly at her, and strangely , she isn't the least bit bothered or scared, in fact, it's as if she feels peaceful, like meeting an old childhood friend. It caws, hopping to face outside, then flies away.

"Wait!" she jumps out of the chair, striding towards the back entrance, but then she stops.

_Okay. I am talking to a raven.A three eyed raven. I must be going crazy._ She looks back to the other side where she and Scott entered. With a final fortifying breath, she shoves the flap open, deciding to chase the raven.

The light momentarily blinds her, and she's thankful that she no longer has a headache or else she knows she'll probably be kneeling in pain right now. She looks left and right, convinced she was imagining things. A distinct caw! Caw! Makes her stop, her eyes finding the raven perched on a flag. It flies away again, and she wastes no time trying to catch up to it, ignoring the protests from the various people busily creating stands and whatnot. She doesn't know where it's leading her, only that it is away from the commotion, she is so intent on not losing it that she isn't aware of where she is the raven finally perches itself on top of a tree. Cosima puts her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. When she looks up, she is stunned.

I didn't know there were weirwood trees this far south, aside from the godswood in the Red Keep.

It is a magnificent tree, but it is not what makes Cosima's blood run cold; it is the man stepping out from behind the tree. A tall, lanky, and very familiar man.

"Hello, Cosima." Ethan smiles at her. After a moment, he frowns.

"Cosima?" He doesn't sound like himself anymore. "Cosima!" She hears a piercing sound from the raven, and she jolts out of the chair, the pain behind her eyes almost making her blind. She can feel hands grabbing her arms, and she instinctively jerks away.

"Whoa, hey, hey. It's me."

"Scott?" she croaks. He helps her up, supporting most of her weight. "I thought I heard you screaming. You were having a bad dream."

_Dream. Dream, it was a dream._ Her heartbeat is still very audible to her ears. _Raven. Lord Ethan. Lord Ethan!_ She looks up to where she saw the raven, and she wobbly steps towards the back entrance where she followed it out.

"Take it easy, I don't think you should be standing or walking yet." He's right, because as she takes her second step, the pain inside her head explodes, making her cry out. She dimly hears someone else enter, and the last thing she remembers before blacking out, is the sensation of strong arms catching her, cool skin against hers which is sweating and burning, the sound of a very accented "Cosima!", and doe shaped hazel eyes looking at her, wide with fear.

* * *

It's like past 2 AM, so all mistakes, you can point them out and I'll edit it later, I'm exhausted, but I had to keep reassuring my friend, I don't really know if that helped. I didnt know what else to do. Thanks for reading. Comments are very much appreciated.


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